IUAJL  WING 


THE  CURSE 
Level — Frontis,   Volume   Twenty-eight 


Military  Romances 

TOM   BURKE 

VOL.  I. 


BY 

CHARLES  LEVER 

AUTHOR    OF  "CHARLES    O'MALLEY,"   "ARTHUR    O'LEARY, 
"  HARRY    LORREQUER,"    ETC.,    ETC. 


Illustrates 


THE  PEARSON  PUBLISHING  CO. 

NEW  YORK 


PREFACE. 


I  WAS  led  to  write  this  story  by  two  impulses :  first,  the 
fascination  which  the  name  and  exploits  of  the  Great 
Emperor  had  ever  exercised  on  my  mind  as  a  boy,  and 
secondly,  by  the  favourable  notice  which  the  Press 
had  bestowed  upon  my  scenes  of  soldier-life  in  "  Charles 
O'Malley." 

If  I  had  not  in  the  wars  of  the  Empire  the  patriotic 
spirit  of  a  great  national  struggle  to  sustain  me,  I  had 
a  field  far  wider  and  grander  than  any  afforded  by  our 
Peninsular  campaigns ;  while  in  the  character  of  the 
French  army,  composed  as  it  was  of  elements  derived  from 
every  rank  and  condition,  there  were  picturesque  effects 
one  might  have  sought  for  in  vain  throughout  the  rest 
of  Europe. 

It  was  my  fortune  to  have  known  personally  some  of 
those  who  filled  great  parts  in  this  glorious  drama.  I  had 
listened  over  and  over  to  their  descriptions  of  scenes,  to 
which  their  look,  and  voice,  and  manner  imparted  a  thrill- 
ing intensity  of  interest.  I  had  opportunities  of  ques- 


2234737 


VI  PKEFACB. 

tioning  them  for  explanations,  of  asking  for  solutions  of 
this  and  that  difficulty  which  had  puzzled  me,  till  I  grew 
so  familiar  with  the  great  names  of  the  time,  the  events, 
and  even  the  localities,  that  when  I  addressed  myself  to 
my  tale,  it  was  with  a  mind  filled  by  my  topics  to  the 
utter  exclusion  of  all  other  subjects 

Neither  before  nor  since  have  I  ever  enjoyed  to  the  same 
extent  the  sense  of  being  so  entirely  engrossed  by  a  single 
theme.  A  great  tableau  of  the  Empire,  from  its  gorgeous 
celebrations  in  Paris  to  its  numerous  achievements  on  the 
field  of  battle,  was  ever  outspread  before  me,  and  I  sat 
down  rather  to  record  than  to  invent  the  scenes  of  my 
story.  A  feeling  that,  as  I  treated  of  real  events  I  was 
bound  to  maintain  a  degree  of  accuracy  in  relation  to  them, 
even  in  fiction,  made  me  endeavour  to  possess  myself  with 
a  correct  knowledge  of  localities,  and,  so  far  as  I  was  able, 
with  a  due  estimate  of  those  whose  characters  I  discussed. 

Some  of  the  battle-fields  I  have  gone  over  ;  of  others,  I 
have  learnt  the  particulars  from  witnesses  of  the  great 
struggles  that  have  made  them  famous.  To  the  claim  of 
this  exactness  I  have,  therefore,  the  pretension  of  at  least 
the  desire  to  be  faithful.  I'or  my  story,  it  has  all  the 
faults  and  shortcomings  which  beset  everything  I  have 
ever  written ;  for  these  I  can  but  offer  regrets,  only  the 
more  poignant  that  I  feel  how  justly  they  are  due. 


PREFACE.  Vii 

The  same  accuracy  which  I  claim  for  scenes  and  situa- 
tions, I  should  like,  if  I  dared,  to  claim  for  the  individuals 
who  figure  in  this  tale ;  but  I  cannot,  in  any  fairness,  pre- 
tend to  more  than  an  attempt  to  paint  resemblances  of 
those  whom  I  have  myself  admired  in  the  description  of 
others.  Pioche  and  Minette  are  of  this  number.  So  is, 
but  of  a  very  different  school,  the  character  of  Duchesne ; 
for  which,  however,  I  had  what  almost  amounted  to  an 
original.  As  to  the  episodes  of  this  story,  one  or  two  were 
communicated  as  facts ;  the  others  are  mere  invention. 

I  do  not  remember  any  particulars  to  which  I  should 
further  advert ;  while  I  feel,  that  the  longer  I  dwell  upon 
the  theme,  the  more  occasion  is  there  to  entreat  indulgence 
—  an  indulgence  which,  if  you  are  not  weary  of  according 
will  be  most  gratefully  accepted  by 

Your  faithful  Servant, 

CHARLES   LEVER. 

Caaa  Capponi,  Florence, 
May,  1857. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   L 

...«.t.l 


CHAPTER  JL 
DABBY— THK  "BLAST" 15 

CHAPTER   III. 
TUB  DI.I'ARTUKK        ......•••28 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Ml    WANDBRIHGf f          40 

CHAPTER  V. 
TUB  CABM ...47 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Mi  KDOOATIOH .51 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   VIL 
KEVIN  STREET  ...... 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
No.  39,  AHD  ITS  FREQUENTERS  .         .        . 


CHAPTER   IX. 
THE  FRENCHMAN'S  STORT  .  -        •        •        •        •      84 

CHAPTER   X. 
TBK  CHURCHYARD •        •        •        «      93 


Too  LAXB ••••98 

CHAPTER   XIL 
A  CHARAOTEE    .......«•.    117 

CHAPTER   XIIL 

AH    drtOOKED-jrOB    VISITOR  ...•••.       128 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
Tn  GAOL .136 


CONTENTS* 


CHAPTER   XV. 

PAOB 

THE  CAITLB  .        •        .142 


CHAPTER   XVL 
TIJK  BAH,.  149 


CHAPTER   XVII. 
MR.  BASSET'S  DWELLING    .  .        .        •        .    155 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 
THE  CAPTAIN'S  QUARTERS          ,  .        .        >        .     163 

CHAPTER   XIX. 

TliK    QUAHRBI.     ..........       173 


CHAPTER   XX. 
TIIK  FuoHf      •        •        .  *        .     183 


CHAPTER  XXL 

TilK    "  E"coLK    MlLITAlKH  ".  .  •  •  •  ,       SOO 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

MM 

TUB  "TuiLKRiKs     m  1803  .        .        .        .212 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
A  BVBFUUI  ,    217 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 
THE  "PAVILLON  DH  FLOKK  " 


CHAPTER   XXV. 
TUB  SCPPKB  A*  "  BEADVILLDSKS'S  "   ...*•»    236 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 
Two  VISITS".  .        .        .242 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 
THH  MARCH  TO  VKRSAILLKS        ... 


CHAPTER   XXVin. 
TBB  PARK  or  VERSAILLES 261 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

FAOm, 

ROSJC  DB  PROVEHCW       t        ..«•*.,     276 


CHAPTER   XXX 
A  "WARNIH«*.  ,    28* 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 
TUB  "CHATHAO"      .  ,     294 


CHAPTER    XXXtL 
CHATKAU  D'ANORK  "  .     805 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 
TB*  "TBMPMI"  ,    814 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 
THR    "CHOUAKS"      ..•..,*..     824 

CHAPTER   XXXV. 
Tax  RKKJH  or  TBKEOB  DNDKK  TBK  CONSULATE   .        .        ,        .     884 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXXVL 

PAOK 

TUB  "PALAIS  DE  JUSTICE  "        .        .        .        t        (        •        «     849 


CHAPTER   XXXVIL 
THE  "  TRIAL".        .        .        .        ,        ,  ,358 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
'THK  CDIKASSIE*  "  ...,.,,..    870 


CHAPTER    XXXIX, 
A  MORNING  AT  "THE  TUILERIBB  "    .        ,        ,        .        .         ,     877 


CHAPTER   XL. 
A  NIGHT  IN  THK  TDILERIKS  GARDENS         .        .        .  ,     393 


CHAPTER   XLL 
A  STORT  OF  TUB  YEAR  '92        .  ,     405 


CHAPTER   XLII. 
THB  HALL  or  THIS  MARSHALS    ......  423 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   XLIIL 
TH«  MARCH  OH  THS  DANCBB     .        *        • 


CHAPTER    XLIV. 
THE  CANTKBH   .        . 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

TH»    "  VlTANDlfeRK    0?   THB   FOURTH  "..,..      457 


TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS." 


CHAPTER  L 

MTSELF. 

IT  was  at  the  close  of  a  cold,  raw  day  in  January — no 
matter  for  the  year — that  the  Galway  mail  was  seen  to 
wind  its  slow  course  through  that  long  and  dull  plain  that 
skirts  the  Shannon,  as  you  approach  the  "  sweet  town  of 
Athlone."  The  reeking  box-coats  and  dripping  umbrellas 
that  hung  down  on  every  side  bespoke  a  day  of  heavy  rain, 
while  the  splashed  and  mud-stained  panels  of  the  coach 
bore  token  of  cut-up  roads,  which  the  jaded  and  toil-worn 
horses  amply  confirmed.  If  the  outsiders,  with  hats 
pressed  firmly  down,  and  heads  bent  against  the  cutting 
wind,  presented  an  aspect  far  from  comfortable,  those  with- 
in, who  peeped  with  difficulty  through  the  dim  glass,  had 
little  to  charm  the  eye ;  their  flannel  nightcaps  and  red 
comforters  were  only  to  be  seen  at  rare  intervals,  as  they 
gazed  on  the  dreary  prospect,  and  then  sank  back  into  the 
coach,  to  con  over  their  moody  thoughts,  or,  if  fortunate, 
perhaps  to  doze. 

In  the  rumble,  with  the  guard,  sat  one,  whose  burly 
figure  and  rosy  cheeks  seemed  to  feel  no  touch  of  the  in- 
clement wind  that  made  his  companions  crouch.  An 
oiled-silk  foraging-cap,  fastened  beneath  the  chin,  and  a 
large  mantle  of  blue  cloth,  bespoke  him  a  soldier,  if  even 
the  assured  tone  of  his  voice,  and  a  certain  easy  carriage 
of  his  head,  had  not  conveyed  to  the  acute  observer  the 
same  information. 


8  TOM   BURKE   OF   "  OURS.** 

Unsubdued  in  spirit,  undepressed  in  mind,  either  by  the 
fong  day  of  pouring  rain  or  the  melancholy  outline  of 
lountry  on  every  side,  his  dark  eye  flashed  as  brightly 
.from  beneath  the  brim  of  his  cap,  and  his  ruddy  face 
beamed  as  cheerily,  as  though  Nature  had  put  forth  her 
every  charm  of  weather  and  scenery  to  greet  and  delight 
him. 

Now  inquiring  of  the  guard  of  the  various  persons 
whose  property  lay  on  either  side,  the  name  of  some  poor 
hamlet  or  some  humble  village,  now  humming  to  himself 
some  stray  verse  of  an  old  campaigning  song,  he  passed 
his  time,  diversifying  these  amusements  by  a  courteous 
salute  to  a  gaping  country  girl,  as,  with  unmeaning  look, 
she  stared  at  the  passing  coach.  But  his  principal  occu- 
pation seemed  to  consist  in  retaining  one  wing  of  his  wide 
cloak  around  the  figure  of  a  little  boy,  who  lay  asleep  be- 
side him,  and  whose  head  jogged  heavily  against  his  arm 
with  every  motion  of  the  coach. 

"  And  so  that's  Athlone,  yonder,  you  tell  me,"  said  the 
Captain,  for  such  he  was.  "  '  The  sweet  town  of  Athlone, 
ochone  ! '  Well,  it  might  be  worse.  I've  passed  ten  years 
in  Africa — on  the  burning  coast,  as  they  call  it :  you  never 
light  a  fire  to  cook  your  victuals,  but  only  lay  them  before 
the  sun  for  ten  minutes,  game  something  less,  and  the 
joint's  done ;  all  true,  by  Jove  !  Lie  still,  my  young  friend, 
or  you'll  heave  us  both  over !  And  whereabouts  does  he 
live,  guard  ?  " 

"  Something  like  a  mile  and  a  half  from  here,"  replied 
the  gruff  guard. 

"  Poor  little  fellow,  he's  sleeping  it  out  well.  They  cer- 
tainly don't  take  overmuch  care  of  him,  or  they'd  never 
have  sent  him  on  the  top  of  a  coach,  in  weather  like  this, 
without  even  a  greatcoat  to  cover  him.  I  say,  Tom,  my 
lad,  wake  up,  you're  not  far  from  home  now.  Are  you 
dreaming  of  the  plum-pudding,  and  the  pony,  and  the  big 
spaniel — eh?" 

"  Whisht  I "  said  the  guard,  in  a  low  whisper.  "  The 
chap's  father  is  dying,  and  they've  sent  for  him  from  school 
to  see  him." 

A  loud  blast  of  the  horn  now  awoke  me  thoroughly  from 
the  half-dreamy  slumber  in  which  I  had  listened  to  the 
previous  dialogue,  and  I  sat  up  and  looked  about  me.  Yes, 


MYSELF.  9 

reader,  my  unworthy  self  it  was  who  was  then  indulging 
in  as  pleasant  a  dream  of  home  and  holidays  as  eve* 
blessed  even  a  schoolboy's  vigils.  Though  my  eyes  were 
open,  it  was  some  minutes  before  I  could  rally  myself  to 
understand  where  I  was,  and  with  what  object.  My  senses 
were  blunted  by  cold,  and  my  drenched  limbs  were 
cramped  and  stiffened  ;  for  the  worthy  captain,  to  whose 
humanity  I  owed  the  share  of  his  cloak,  had  only  joined 
the  coach  late  in  the  day,  and  during  the  whole  morning  I 
had  been  exposed  to  the  most  pitiless  downpour  of  rain 
and  sleet. 

"  Here  yon  are !  "  said  the  rough  guard,  as  the  coach 
drew  up  to  let  me  down.  '*  No  need  of  blowing  the  horn 
here,  I  suppose." 

This  was  said  in  allusion  to  the  miserable  appearance  of 
the  ruined  cabin  that  figured  as  my  father's  gate-lodge, 
where  some  naked  children  were  seen  standing  before  the 
door,  looking  with  astonishment  at  the  coach  and  pas- 
sengers. 

"  Well,  good-bye,  my  little  man.  I  hope  you'll  find  the 
governor  better.  Give  him  my  respects  ;  and,  hark  ye,  if 
ever  you  come  over  to  Athlone  don't  forget  to  come  and 
see  me — Captain  Bubbleton — George  Frederick  Augustus 
Bubbleton,  45th  Regiment,  or,  when  at  home,  Little  Bub- 
bleton, Herts,  and  Bungalow  Hut,  in  the  Carnatic ;  that's 
the  mark  ;  so  good-bye — good-bye." 

I  waved  my  hand  to  him  in  adieu,  and  then  turned  to 
enter  the  gate. 

"Well,  Freney,"  said  I,  to  a  half-dressed,  wild-looking 
figure  that  rushed  out  to  lift  the  gate  open,  for  the  hinges 
had  been  long  broken,  and  it  was  attached  to  the  pier  by 
some  yards  of  strong  rope,  "  how  is  my  father  ?  " 

A  gloomy  nod  and  a  discouraging  sign  with  his  open 
hand  were  the  only  reply. 

"  Is  there  any  hope?  "  said  I,  faintly. 

"  Sorrow  one  of  me  knows.  I  daren't  go  near  the 
house.  I  was  sarved  with  notice  to  quit  a  month  ago,  and 
they  tell  him  I'm  gone.  Oh,  vo,  vo !  what's  to  become  of 
us  all !  " 

I  threw  the  bag,  which  contained  my  humble  wardrobe, 
on  my  shoulder,  and,  without  waiting  for  further  question- 
ing, walked  forward.  Night  was  falling  fast,  and  nothing 


4  TOM   BURKE   OF   "  OURS." 

short  of  my  intimacy  with  the  place  from  infancy  could 
have  enabled  me  to  find  my  way.  The  avenue,  from  long 
neglect  and  disuse,  was  completely  obliterated ;  the  fences 
were  broken  up  to  burn ;  the  young  trees  had  mostly 
shared  the  same  fate ;  the  cattle  strayed  at  will  through 
the  plantations,  and  all  bespoke  utter  ruin  and  destruction. 

If  the  scene  around  me  was  sad,  it  only  the  better 
suited  my  own  heart.  I  was  returning  to  a  home  where  I 
bad  never  heard  the  voice  of  kindness  or  affection ;  where 
one  fond  word — one  look  of  welcome  had  never  met  me. 
I  was  returning,  not  to  receive  the  last  blessing  of  a  lov- 
ing parent,  but  merely  sent  for  as  a  necessary  ceremony 
on  the  occasion.  And  perhaps  there  was  a  mock  pro- 
priety in  inviting  me  once  more  to  the  house  which  I  was 
never  to  revisit.  My  father — a  widower  for  many  years 
— had  bestowed  all  his  affection  on  my  elder  brother,  to 
whom  so  much  of  his  property  as  had  escaped  the  general 
wreck  was  to  descend.  He  had  been  sent  to  Eton  under 
the  guidance  of  a  private  tutor,  while  an  obscure  Dublin 
school  was  deemed  good  enough  for  me.  For  him  every 
nerve  was  strained  to  supply  all  his  boyish  extravagance, 
and  enable  him  to  compete  with  the  sons  of  men  of  high 
rank  and  fortune,  whose  names,  mentioned  in  his  letters 
home,  were  an  ample  recompense  for  all  the  lavish  expendi- 
ture their  intimacy  entailed.  My  letters  were  few  and  brief, 
their  unvaried  theme  the  delay  in  the  last  quarter's  pay- 
ment, or  the  unfurnished  condition  of  my  little  trunk, 
which  more  than  once  exposed  me  to  the  taunts  of  my 
schoolfellows. 

He  was  a  fair  and  delicate  boy,  timid  in  manner,  and  re- 
tiring in  disposition ;  I,  a  browned-faced  varlet,  who  knew 
every  one  from  the  herd  to  the  high-sheriff.  To  him  the 
servants  were  directed  to  look  up  as  the  head  of  the  house, 
while  I  was  consigned  either  to  total  neglect,  or  the  atten- 
tions of  those  who  only  figured  as  supernumeraries  in  our 
army  list. 

Yet,  with  all  these  sources  of  jealousy  between  us,  we 
loved  each  other  tenderly.  George  pitied  "  poor  Tommy," 
as  he  called  me ;  and  for  that  very  pity  my  heart  clang  to 
him.  He  would  often  undertake  to  plead  my  cause  for 
those  bolder  infractions  his  gentle  nature  never  ven- 
tured on,  and  it  was  only  from  long  association  with  boys 


MYSELF.  5 

of  superior  rank,  whose  habits  and  opinions  he  believed  to 
be  standards  for  his  imitation,  that  at  length  a  feeling  of 
estrangement  grew  up  between  us,  and  we  learned  to  look 
somewhat  coldly  on  each  other. 

Prom  these  brief  details  it  will  not  be  wondered  at  if  I 
turned  homeward  with  a  heavy  heart.  From  the  hour  I 
received  the  letter  of  my  recall — which  was  written  by  my 
father's  attorney  in  most  concise  and  legal  phrase — I  had 
scarcely  ceased  to  shed  tears ;  for,  so  it  is,  there  is  some- 
thing in  the  very  thought  of  being  left  an  orphan,  friend- 
less and  unprotected,  quite  distinct  from  the  loss  of  affec- 
tion and  kindness  which  overwhelms  the  young  heart  with 
a  very  flood  of  wretchedness.  Besides,  a  stray  word  or 
two  of  kindness  had  now  and  then  escaped  my  father 
towards  me,  and  I  treasured  these  up  as  my  richest  pos- 
session. I  thought  of  them  over  and  over.  Many  a 
lonely  night,  when  my  heart  has  been  low  and  sinking,  I 
repeated  them  to  myself,  like  talismans  against  grief ;  and 
when  I  slept,  my  dreams  would  dwell  on  them,  and  make 
my  waking  happy. 

As  I  issued  from  a  dark  copse  of  beech-trees  the  indis- 
tinct outline  of  the  old  house  met  my  eye.  I  could  trace 
the  high-pitched  roof,  the  tall  and  pointed  gables  against 
the  sky,  and  with  a  strange  sense  of  undefinable  fear,  be- 
held a  solitary  light  that  twinkled  from  the  window  of  an 
upper  room,  where  my  father  lay;  the  remainder  of  the 
building  was  in  deep  shadow. 

I  mounted  the  long  flight  of  stone  steps  that  led  to  what 
once  had  been  a  terrace  ;  but  the  balustrades  were  broken 
many  a  year  ago,  and  even  the  heavy  granite  stone  had 
been  smashed  in  several  places.  The  hall-door  lay  wide 
open,  and  the  hall  itself  had  no  other  light  save  such  aa 
the  flickering  of  a  wood  fire  afforded,  as  its  uncertain 
flashes  fell  upon  the  dark  wainscot  and  the  floor. 

I  had  just  recognized  the  grim,  old-fashioned  portraits 
that  covered  the  walls,  when  my  eye  was  attracted  by  a 
figure  near  the  fire.  I  approached,  and  beheld  an  old  man 
doubled  with,  age ;  his  bleared  eyes  were  bent  upon  the 
wood  embers,  which  he  was  trying  to  rake  together  with 
a  stick.  His  clothes  bespoke  the  most  miserable  poverty, 
and  afforded  no  protection  against  the  cold  and  cutting 
blast.  He  was  croning  some  old  song  to  himself  as  I 


6  TOM   BURKE   OF   "  OURS.** 

drew  near,  and  paid  no  attention  to  me.  I  moved  round 
so  as  to  let  the  light  fall  on  his  face,  and  then  perceived 
it  was  old  Lanty,  as  he  was  called.  Poor  fellow !  Age 
and  neglect  had  changed  him  sadly  since  I  had  seen  him 
last.  He  had  been  the  huntsman  of  the  family  for  two 
generations,  but  having  somehow  displeased  my  father  one 
day  at  the  cover,  he  rode  at  him  and  struck  him  on  the 
head  with  his  loaded  whip.  The  man  fell  senseless  from 
his  horse,  and  was  carried  home.  A  few  days,  however, 
enabled  him  to  rally  and  be  about  again,  but  his  senses  had 
left  him  for  ever.  All  recollection  of  the  unlucky  circum- 
stance had  faded  from  his  mind,  and  his  rambling  thoughts 
dwelt  on  his  old  pursuits,  so  that  he  passed  his  days  about 
the  stables,  looking  after  the  horses  and  giving  directions 
about  them.  Latterly  he  had  become  too  infirm  for  this. 
and  never  left  his  own  cabin  ;  but  now,  from  some  strange 
cause,  he  had  come  up  to  "the  house,"  and  was  sitting  by 
the  fire  as  I  found  him. 

They  who  know  Ireland  will  acknowledge  the  strange 
impulse  which,  at  the  approach  of  death,  seems  to  excite 
the  people  to  congregate  about  the  house  of  mourning. 
The  passion  for  deep  and  powerful  excitement — the  most 
remarkable  feature  in  their  complex  nature — seems  to 
revel  in  the  details  of  sorrow  and  suffering.  Not  content 
even  with  the  tragedy  before  them,  they  call  in  the  aid  of 
superstition  to  heighten  the  aw  fulness  of  the  scene ;  and 
every  story  of  ghost  and  banshee  is  conned  over  in  tones 
that  need  not  the  occasion  to  make  them  thrill  upon  the 
heart.  At  such  a  time,  the  deepest  workings  of  their 
wild  spirits  are  revealed.  Their  grief  is  low  and  sorrow- 
struck,  or  it  is  loud  and  passionate;  now  breaking  into 
aome  plaintive  wail  over  the  virtues  of  the  departed,  now 
bursting  into  a  frenzied  appeal  to  the  Father  of  Mercies 
as  to  the  justice  of  recalling  those  from  earth  who  were 
its  blessing ;  while,  stranger  than  all,  a  dash  of  reckless 
merriment  will  break  in  upon  the  gloom,  but  it  is  like 
the  red  lightning  through  the  storm,  that,  as  it  rends  the 
cloud,  only  displays  the  havoc  and  desolation  around,  and 
at  its  parting  leaves  even  a  blacker  darkness  behind  it. 

From  my  infancy  I  had  been  familiar  with  scenes  of 
this  kind,  f  /id  my  habit  of  stealing  away  unobserved  from 
home  to  witness  a  country  wake  had  endeared  me  much 


MYSELF.  7 

to  the  country  people,  who  felt  this  no  small  kindness 
from  "  the  master's  son."  Somehow,  the  ready  welcome 
and  attention  I  always  met  with  had  worked  on  my  young 
heart,  and  I  learned  to  feel  all  the  interest  of  these  scenes 
fully  as  much  as  those  about  rne.  It  was,  then,  with  a 
sense  of  desolation  that  I  looked  upon  the  one  solitary 
mourner  who  now  sat  at  the  hearth — that  poor  old  idiot 
man  who  gazed  on  vacancy,  or  muttered  with  parched 
lip  some  few  words  to  himself.  That  he  alone  should  be 
found  to  join  his  sorrows  to  ours,  seemed  to  me  like  utter 
destitution,  and  as  I  leaned  against  the  chimney  I  burst 
into  tears. 

"  Don't  cry,  alannah,  don't  cry,"  said  the  old  man; 
"  it's  the  worst  way  at  all.  Get  up  again  and  ride  him  at 
it  bould.  Oh,  vo,  look  at  where  the  thief  is  taking  now 
—along  the  stone  wall  there  1 "  Here  he  broke  out  into 
a  low,  wailing  ditty : — 

"  And  the  fox  set  him  down  and  looked  about, 

And  many  were  feared  to  follow. 
'Maybe  I'm  wrong,'  says  he,  '  but  I  doubt 

That  you'll  be  as  gay  to-morrow. 
For  loud  as  you  cry,  and  high  as  you  ride, 

And  little  you  feel  my  sorrow, 
I'll  be  free  on  the  mountain  side, 
While  you'll  lie  low  to-morrow. 

Oh,  Moddideroo,  aroo,  aroo.' 

Ay,  just  so — they'll  run  to  earth  in  the  cold  churchyard. 
Whisht — hark  there — soho,  soho — that's  Badger  I  hear  !  " 

I  turned  away  with  a  bursting  heart,  and  felt  my  way 
up  the  broad  oak-stair,  which  was  left  in  complete  dark- 
ness. As  I  reached  the  corridor,  off  which  the  bed- 
rooms lay,  I  heard  voices  talking  together  in  a  low  tone — 
they  came  from  my  father's  room,  the  door  of  which  lay 
ajar.  I  approached  noiselessly  and  peeped  in:  by  the 
fire,  which  was  the  only  light  now  in  the  apartment,  sat 
two  persons  at  a  small  table,  one  of  whom  I  at  once  re- 
cognized as  the  tall,  solemn-looking  figure  of  Doctor 
Finnerty ;  the  other  I  detected  by  the  sharp  tones  of  his 
voice  to  be  Mr.  Anthony  Basset,  my  father's  confidential 
attorney. 

On  the  table  before  them  lay  a  mass  of  papers,  parch. 


B  TOM  BURKE   OP   "  OURS." 

ments,  leases,  deeds,  together  with  glasses  and  a  black 
bottle,  whose  accompaniments  of  hot  water  and  sugar 
left  no  doubt  as  to  its  contents.  The  chimney-piece  was 
crowded  with  a  range  of  vials  and  medicine  bottles,  soma 
of  them  empty,  some  of  them  half  finished.  From  the 
bed  in  the  corner  of  the  room  came  the  heavy  sound  of 
snoring  respiration,  which  either  betokened  deep  sleep  or 
insensibility.  If  I  enjoyed  but  little  favour  in  my  father's 
house,  I  owed  much  of  the  coldness  shown  to  me  to  the 
evil  influence  of  the  very  two  persons  who  sat  before  me 
in  conclave.  Of  the  precise  source  of  the  doctor's  dislike 
I  was  not  quite  clear,  except,  perhaps,  that  I  recovered 
from  the  measles  when  he  predicted  my  certain  death, 
the  attorney's  was,  however,  no  mystery.  About  three 
years  before  he  had  stopped  to  breakfast  afc  our  house  on 
his  way  to  Ballinasloe  fair.  As  his  pony  was  led  round  to 
the  stable  it  caught  my  eye.  It  was  a  most  tempting  bit 
of  horseflesh,  full  of  spirit  and  in  top  condition,  for  he  was 
going  to  sell  it.  I  followed  him  round,  and  appeared  just 
as  the  servant  was  about  to  unsaddle  him.  The  attorney 
was  no  favourite  in  the  house,  and  I  had  little  difficulty  in 
persuading  the  man,  instead  of  taking  off  the  saddle, 
merely  to  shorten  the  stirrups  to  the  utmost  limit.  The 
next  minute  I  was  on  his  back  flying  over  the  lawn  at  a 
stretching  gallop.  Fences  abounded  on  all  sides,  and  I 
rushed  him  at  double  ditches,  stone  walls,  and  bog-wood 
rails,  with  a  mad  delight  that  at  every  leap  rose  higher. 
After  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  thus  passed,  his 
blood,  as  well  as  my  own,  being  by  this  time  thoroughly 
roused,  I  determined  to  try  him  at  the  wall  of  an  old 
pound,  which  stood  some  few  hundred  yards  from  the  front 
of  the  house.  Its  exposure  to  the  window,  at  any  other 
time,  would  have  deterred  me  from  even  the  thought  of 
Buch  an  exploit,  but  now  I  was  quite  beyond  tho  pale  of 
such  cold  calculations ;  besides  that  I  was  accompanied 
by  a  select  party  of  all  the  labourers,  with  their  wives  and 
children,  whose  praises  of  my  horsemanship  would  have 
made  me  take  the  lock  of  a  canal  if  before  me.  A  fine 
gallop  of  grass  sward  led  to  the  pound,  and  over  this  I 
went,  cheered  with  as  merry  a  cry  as  ever  stirred  a  light 
heart.  One  glance  I  threw  at  the  house  as  I  drew  near 
the  leap ;  the  window  of  the  breakfast  parlour  was  open, 


MYSELF.  9 

my  father  and  Mr.  Basset  were  both  at  it ;  I  saw  their 
fcices  red  with  passion,  I  heard  their  loud  shout ;  my  very 
spirit  sickened  within  me — I  saw  no  more — I  felt  the 
pony  rush  at  the  wall — the  quick  stroke  of  his  feet — the 
rise — the  plunge — and  then  a  crash — and  I  was  sent  spin- 
ning over  his  head  some  half-dozen  yards,  ploughing  up 
the  ground  on  face  and  hands.  I  was  carried  home  with 
a  broken  head ;  the  pony's  knees  were  in  the  same  con- 
dition. My  father  said  that  he  ought  to  be  shot  for 
humanity's  sake  ;  Tony  suggested  the  same  treatment  for 
me,  on  similar  grounds.  The  upshot,  however,  was,  I 
secured  an  enemy  for  life,  and,  worse  still,  one  whose 
power  to  injure  was  equalled  by  his  inclination. 

Into  the  company  of  these  two  worthies  I  now  found 
myself  thus  accidentally  thrown,  and  would  gladly  have 
retreated  at  once,  but  that  some  indescribable  impulse  to 
be  near  my  father's  sick-bed  was  on  me,  and  so  I  crept 
stealthily  in  and  sat  down  in  a  large  chair  at  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  where  unnoticed  I  listened  to  the  long-drawn 
heavings  of  his  chest,  and  in  silence  wept  over  my  own 
desolate  condition. 

For  a  long  time  the  absorbing  nature  of  my  own  grief 
prevented  me  hearing  the  muttered  conversation  near  the 
fire  ;  but  at  length,  as  the  night  wore  on,  and  my  sorrow 
had  found  vent  in  tears,  I  began  to  listen  to  the  dialogue 
beside  me. 

"  He'll  have  five  hundred  pounds  under  his  grand  father's 
will,  in  spite  of  us  ;  but  what's  that  ?  "  said  the  attorney. 

"  I'll  take  him  as  an  apprentice  for  it,  I  know,"  said  the 
doctor,  with  a  grin  that  made  me  shudder. 

"  That's  settled  already,"  replied  Mr.  Basset.  "  He's  to 
be  articled  to  me  for  five  years ;  but  I  think  it's  likely  he'll 
go  to  sea  before  the  time  expires.  How  heavily  the  old 
man  is  sleeping !  Now,  is  that  natural  sleep  ?  " 

"No;  that's  always  a  bad  sign;  that  puffing  with  the 
lips  is  generally  among  the  last  symptoms.  Well,  he'll  be 
a  loss  anyhow,  when  he's  gone.  There's  an  eight-ounce 
mixture  he  never  tasted  yet — infusion  of  gentian  with 
soda.  Put  your  lips  to  that." 

"  Devil  a  one  o*  me  will  ever  sup  the  like,"  said  the 
attorney,  finishing  his  tumbler  of  punch  as  he  spoke. 
"  Pheugh !  how  can  you  drink  them  things  that  way  ?  " 


10  TOM   BURKE   OF   "  OURS/* 

"  Sure  it's  the  compound  infusion,  made  with  orange 
peel  and  cardamom  seeds.  There  isn't  one  of  them  didn't 
cost  two-and-ninepence.  He'll  be  eight  weeks  in  bed  come 
Tuesday  next." 

"  Well,  well !  If  he  lived  till  the  next  assizes,  it  would 
be  telling  me  four  hundred  pounds,  not  to  speak  of  the 
costs  of  two  ejectments  I  have  in  hand  against  Mulling 
and  his  father-in-law." 

"  It's  a  wonder,"  said  the  doctor,  after  a  pause,  "  that 
Tom  didn't  come  by  the  coach.  It's  no  matter  now,  at  any 
rate ;  for,  since  the  eldest  son's  away,  there's  no  one  here 
to  interfere  with  us." 

"  It  was  a  masterly  stroke  of  yours,  doctor,  to  tell  the 
old  man  the  weather  was  too  severe  to  bring  George  over 
from  Eton.  As  sure  as  he  came  he'd  make  up  matters 
with  Tom,  and  the  end  of  it  would  be,  I'd  lose  the  agency, 
and  yon  wouldn't  have  those  pleasant  little  bills  ior  the 
tenantry — eh,  Fin  ?  " 

"Whisht!  he's  waking  now.  Well,  sir — well,  Mr. 
Burke,  how  do  you  feel  now  ?  He's  off  again." 

"The  funeral  ought  to  be  on  a  Sunday,"  said  Basset,  in 
a  whisper.  "  There'll  be  no  getting  the  people  tc  come 
any  other  day.  He's  saying  something,  I  think." 

"  Fin,"  said  my  father,  in  a  faint,  hoarse  voice — "  Fin, 
give  me  a  drink.  It's  not  warm." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  had  it  on  the  tire." 

"  Well,  then,  it's  myself  that's  growing  cold.  How's 
the  pulse  now,  Fin  ?  Is  the  Dublin  doctor  come  yet?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  we're  expecting  him  every  minute  ;  but  sure, 
you  know,  we're  doing  everything  " 

"  Oh !  I  know  it.  Yes,  to  be  sure,  Fin  ;  but  they've 
many  a  new  thing  up  in  Dublin,  there,  we  don't  hear  of. 
Whisht !  what's  that  ?  " 

"  It's  Tony,  sir — Tony  Basset ;  he's  sitting  up  with 
me." 

"  Come  over  here,  Tony.  Tony,  I'm  going  fast.  I  feel 
it,  and  my  heart  is  low.  Could  we  withdraw  the  proceed- 
ings about  Freney  ?  " 

"  He's  the  biggest  blackguard " 

"  Ah  !  no  matter  now — I'm  going  to  a  place  where  we'll 
all  need  mercy.  What  was  it  that  Canealy  said  he'd  give 
for  the  land?" 


MYSELF.  11 

'*  Two  pound  ten  an  acre — and  Freney  never  paid  thirty 
shillings  out  of  it." 

"  It's  mighty  odd  George  didn't  come  over." 

"  Sure,  I  told  you  there  was  two  feet  of  snow  on  the 
ground." 

"  Lord  be  about  us !  what  a  severe  season !  But  why 
isn't  Tom  here  ? "  I  started  at  the  words,  and  was 
about  to  rush  forward,  when  he  added,  "  I  don't  want  him, 
though." 

"  Of  course  you  don't,"  said  the  attorney.  "  It's  little 
comfort  he  ever  gave  you.  Are  you  in  pain  there  ?  " 

"Ay,  great  pain  over  my  heart.  Well,  well !  don't  be 
hard  to  him  when  I'm  gone." 

"  Don't  let  him  talk  so  much,"  said  Basset,  in  a  whisper, 
to  the  doctor. 

"  You  must  compose  yourself,  Mr.  Burke,"  said  the 
doctor.  "  Try  and  take  a  sleep.  The  night  isn't  half 
through  yet." 

The  sick  man  obeyed  without  a  word,  and  soon  after  the 
heavy  respiration  betokened  the  same  lethargic  slumber 
once  more. 

The  voices  of  the  speakers  gradually  fell  into  a  low, 
monotonous  sound  ;  the  long-drawn  breathings  from  the 
sick-bed  mingled  with  them  ;  the  fire  only  sent  forth  an 
occasional  gleam,  as  some  piece  of  falling  turf  seemed  to 
revive  its  wasting  life,  and  shot  up  a  myriad  of  bright 
sparks ;  and  the  chirping  of  the  cricket  in  the  chimney- 
corner  sounded  to  my  mournful  heart  like  the  tick  of  th« 
death-watch. 

As  I  listened  my  tears  fell  fast,  and  a  gulping  fulness 
in  my  throat  made  me  feel  like  one  in  suffocation.  But 
deep  sorrow,  somehow,  tends  to  sleep.  The  weariness  of 
the  long  day  and  dreary  night,  exhaustion,  the  dull  hum 
of  the  subdued  voices,  and  the  faint  light,  all  combir  ad 
to  make  me  drowsy,  and  I  fell  into  a  heavy  slumber. 

I  am  writing  now  of  the  far-off  past — of  the  long  year* 
ago,  of  my  youth — since  which  my  seared  heart  has  had 
many  a  sore  and  scalding  lesson  ;  yet  I  cannot  think  ol 
that  night,  fixed  and  graven  as  it  lies  in  my  memory, 
without  a  touch  of  boyish  softness.  I  remember  every 
waking  thought  that  crossed  my  mind — my  very  dream 
is  still  before  me.  It  was  of  my  mother.  I  thought  oi 


12  TOM  BURKE  OF   "  OUBS." 

her  as  she  lay  on  a  sofa  in  the  old  drawing-room,  the 
window  open,  and  the  blinds  drawn ;  the  gentle  breeze  of 
a  June  morning  flapping  them  lazily  to  and  fro,  as  1 
knelt  beside  her  to  repeat  my  little  hymn,  the  first  I 
ever  learned ;  and  how  at  each  moment  my  eyes  would 
turn  and  my  thoughts  stray  to  that  open  casement, 
through  which  the  odour  of  flowers  and  the  sweet  song 
of  birds  were  pouring ;  and  my  little  heart  was  panting 
for  liberty,  while  her  gentle  smile  and  faint  words  bade 
me  remember  where  1  was.  And  then  I  was  straying 
away  through  the  old  garden,  where  the  very  sunlight 
fell  scantily  through  the  thick- woven  branches,  loaded  with 
perfumed  blossom ;  the  blackbirds  hopped  fearlessly  from 
twig  to  twig,  mingling  their  clear  notes  with  the  breezy 
murmur  of  the  leaves,  and  the  deep  hum  of  summer  bees. 
How  happy  was  I  then !  And  why  cannot  such  happiness 
be  lasting  ?  Why  can  we  not  shelter  ourselves  from  the 
base  contamination  of  worldly  cares,  and  live  on  amid 
pleasures  pure  as  these,  with  hearts  as  holy  and  desires 
as  simple  as  in  childhood  ? 

Suddenly  a  change  came  over  my  dream,  and  the  dark 
clouds  began  to  gather  from  all  quarters,  and  a  low, 
creeping  wind  moaned  heavily  along.  I  thought  I  heard 
my  name  called.  I  started  and  awoke.  For  a  second  or 
two  the  delusion  was  so  strong  that  I  could  not  remember 
where  I  was ;  but  as  the  grey  light  of  a  breaking  morn- 
ing fell  through  the  half-open  shutters,  I  beheld  the  two 
figures  near  the  fire.  They  were  both  sound  asleep,  the 
deep-drawn  breathing  and  nodding  heads  attesting  the 
heaviness  of  their  slumber. 

I  felt  cold  and  cramped,  but  still  afraid  to  stir,  although 
a  longing  to  approach  the  bedside  was  still  upon  me.  A 
faint  sigh  and  some  muttered  words  here  came  to  my  ear, 
and  I  listened.  It  was  my  father ;  but  so  indistinct  the 
sounds,  they  seemed  more  like  the  ramblings  of  a  dream. 
I  crept  noiselessly  on  tiptoe  to  the  bed,  and,  drawing  the 
curtain  gently  over,  gazed  within.  He  was  lying  on  his 
back,  his  hands  and  arms  outside  the  clothes.  His  beard 
had  grown  so  much,  and  he  had  wasted  so  far,  that  I 
could  scarcely  have  known  him.  His  eyes  were  wide 
open,  but  fixed  on  the  top  of  the  bed  ;  his  lips  moved 
rapidly,  and,  by  his  hands,  as  they  were  closely  clasped. 


MYSELF.  18 

I  thought  it  was  in  prayer.  I  leaned  over  him,  and 
placed  my  hand  in  his.  For  some  time  he  did  not  seem 
to  notice  it,  but  at  last  he  pressed  it  softly,  and,  rubbing 
the  fingers  to  and  fro,  he  said,  in  a  low,  faint  voice, 
*'  Is  this  your  hand,  my  boy  ?  " 

I  thought  my  heart  had  split,  as,  in  a  gush  of  tears,  I 
bent  down  and  kissed  him. 

"  I  can't  see  well,  my  dear  ;  there's  something  between 
me  and  the  light,  and  a  weight  is  on  me — here — here- " 

A  heavy  sigh,  and  a  shudder  that  shook  his  whole  frame, 
followed  these  words. 

"  They  told  me  I  wasn't  to  see  you  once  again,"  said 
he,  as  a  sickly  smile  played  over  his  mouth  ;  '*  but  I  knew 
you'd  come  to  sit  by  me.  It's  a  lonely  thing  not  to  have 
one's  own  at  such  an  hour  as  this.  Don't  weep,  my  dear 
— my  own  heart's  failing  me  fast." 

A  broken,  muttering  sound  followed,  and  then  he  said, 
in  a  loud  voice, — 

"  I  never  did  it !  It  was  Tony  Basset.  He  told  me 
— he  persuaded  me.  Ah !  that  was  a  sore  day  when  I 
listened  to  him.  Who's  to  tell  me  I'm  not  to  be  master 
of  my  own  estate  ?  Turn  them  adrift — ay,  every  man  of 
them.  I'll  weed  the  ground  of  such  wretches — eh,  Tony? 
Did  any  one  say  Freney's  mother  was  dead  ? — they  may 
wake  her  at  the  cross  roads,  if  they  like.  Poor  old  Molly! 
I'm  sorry  for  her,  too.  She  nursed  me  and  my  sister 
tk*t's  gone ;  and  maybe  her  death-bed,  poor  as  she  was, 
was  easier  than  mine  will  be — without  kith  or  kin,  child 
or  friend.  Oh,  George  ! — and  I  that  doted  on  you  with 
all  my  heart !  Who's  hand's  this  ? — ah,  I  forgot,  my 
darling  boy,  it's  you.  Come  to  ine  here,  my  child.  Wasn't 
it  for  you  that  I  toiled  and  scraped  this  many  a  year  ? 
Wasn't  it  for  you  that  I  did  all  this,  and — O  God,  forgive 
me ! — maybe  it's  my  soul  that  I've  perilled  to  leave  you 
a  rich  man.  Where's  Tom  ? — where's  that  fellow  now  ?  " 

"  Here,  sir,"  said  I,  squeezing  his  hand,  and  pressing  it 
to  my  lips. 

He  sprang  tip  at  the  words,  and  sat  up  in  his  bed,  his 
eyes  dilated  to  their  widest,  and  his  pale  lips  parted 
asunder. 

"  Where  ? "  cried  he,  as  he  felt  me  over  wi/Ji  his  thin 
fingers,  and  drew  me  towards  him. 


14  TOM  BURKE    OP  "  ODBS." 

"  Here,  father,  here." 

"  And  is  this  Tom  ?"  said  he,  as  his  voice  fell  into  a 
low,  hollow  sound,  and  then  added,  "  Where's  George  ? 
—answer  me  at  once.  Oh,  I  see  it.  He  isn't  here ;  he 
wouldn't  come  over  to  see  his  old  father.  Tony !  Tony 
Basset,  I  say  I "  shouted  the  sick  man,  in  a  voice  that 
roused  the  sleepers,  and  brought  them  to  his  bedside, 
"  open  that  window  there.  Let  me  look  out — do  it  as  I 
bid  you — open  it  wide.  Turn  in  all  the  cattle  you  can 
find  on  the  road.  Do  you  hear  me,  Tony  ?  Drive  them 
in  from  every  side.  Finnerty,  I  say,  mind  my  words, 
for" — (here  he  uttered  a  most  awful  and  terrific  oath) — 
"  as  I  linger  on  this  side  of  the  grave,  I'll  not  leave  him 
a  blade  of  grass  I  can  take  from  him." 

His  chest  heaved  with  a  convulsive  spasm,  his  face 
became  pale  as  death,  his  eyes  fixed  ;  he  clutched  eagerly  at 
the  bed-clothes,  and  then,  with  a  horrible  cry,  he  fell  back 
npon  the  pillow,  as  a  faint  stream  of  red  blood  trickled 
from  his  nostril  and  ran  down  his  chin. 

*'  It's  all  over  now,"  whispered  the  doctor. 

"  Is  he  dead  ?  "  said  Basset. 

The  other  made  no  reply;  but,  drawing  the  curtains 
close,  he  turned  away,  and  they  both  moved  noiselessly 
from  the  room. 


15 


CHAPTER  II 

9ARBY — THE       "BLAST." 

IF  there  are  dreams  which,  by  their  vividness  and  accuracy 
of  detail,  seem  altogether  like  reality,  so  are  there  certain 
actual  passages  in  our  lives  which,  in  their  indistinctness 
while  occurring,  and  in  the  faint  impression  they  leave 
behind  them,  seem  only  as  mere  dreams.  Most  of  our 
early  sorrows  are  of  this  kind.  The  warm  current  of  our 
young  hearts  would  appear  to  repel  the  cold  touch  of 
affliction ;  nor  can  grief,  at  this  period,  do  more  than 
breathe  an  icy  chill  upon  the  surface  of  our  affections, 
where  all  is  glowing  and  fervid  beneath.  The  struggle, 
then,  between  the  bounding  heart  and  the  depressing 
care,  renders  our  impressions  of  grief  vague  and  ill- 
defined. 

A  stunning  sense  of  some  great  calamity,  some  sorrow 
without  hope,  mingled  in  my  waking  thoughts  with  a 
childish  notion  of  freedom.  Unloved,  uncared  for,  my 
early  years  presented  but  few  pleasures.  My  boyhood 
had  been  a  long  struggle  to  win  some  mark  of  affection 
from  one  who  cared  not  for  me,  and  to  whom  still  my 
heart  had  clung,  as  does  the  drowning  man  to  the  last 
plank  of  all  the  wreck.  The  tie  that  bound  me  to  him 
wae  now  severed,  and  I  was  without  one  in  the  wide 
world  to  look  up  to  or  to  love. 

I  looked  out  from  my  window  upon  the  bleak 
country.  A  heavy  snow-storm  had  fallen  during  the 
night.  A  lowering  sky  of  leaden  hue  stretched  above 
the  dreary  landscape,  across  which  no  living  thing  was 
seen  to  move.  Within-doors  all  was  silent.  The  doctor 
and  the  attorney  had  both  taken  their  departure :  the 
deep  wheel-track  in  the  snow  marked  the  road  they  had 
followed.  The  servants,  seated  around  the  kitchen  fire, 
conversed  in  low  and  broken  whispers.  The  only  sound 
that  broke  the  stillness  was  the  ticking  of  the  clock  upon 


16  TOM  BURKE   OF   "  CUES." 

the  stair.  There  was  something  that  smote  heavily  on  my 
heart  in  the  monotonous  ticking  of  that  clock ;  that  told 
of  time  passing  beside  him  who  had  gone;  that  seemed 
to  speak  of  minutes  close  to  one  whose  minul.es  were 
eternity.  I  crept  into  the  room  where  the  dead  body  lay, 
and,  as  my  tears  ran  fast,  I  bent  over  it.  I  thought 
sometimes  the  expression  of  those  cold  features  changed 
— now  frowning  heavily,  now  smiling  blandly  on  me. 
I  watched  them  till,  in  my  eager  gaze,  the  lips  seemed  to 
move,  and  the  cheek  to  flash.  How  hard  is  it  to  believe 
in  death ! — how  difficult  to  think  that  "  there  is  a  sleep 
that  knows  no  waking."  I  knelt  down  beside  the  bed  and 
prayed.  I  prayed  that  now,  as  all  of  earth  was  nought  to 
him  who  was  departed,  he  would  give  me  the  affection  he 
had  not  bestowed  in  life.  I  besought  him  not  to  chill  the 
heart  that  in  its  lonely  desolation  had  neither  home  nor 
friend.  My  throat  sobbed  to  bursting  as  in  my  words 
I  seemed  to  realize  the  fulness  of  my  affliction.  The  door 
opened  behind  me  as  with  bent-down  head  I  knelt.  A 
heavy  footstep  slowly  moved  along  the  floor,  and  the  next 
moment  the  tottering  figure  of  old  Lanty  stood  beside  me, 
gazing  on  the  dead  man.  There  was  that  look  of  vacancy 
in  his  filmy  eye  that  showed  he  knew  nothing  of  what  had 
happened. 

"  Is  he  asleep,  Master  Tommy?  "  said  the  old  man,  in 
a  faint  whisper. 

My  lips  trembled,  but  I  could  not  speak  the  word. 

"  I  thought  he  wanted  the  '  dogs  '  up  at  Meelif ;  but  I'm 
strained  here  about  the  loins,  and  can't  go  out  myself. 
Tell  him  that,  when  he  wakes." 

"  He'll  never  wake  now,  Lanty — he's  dead,"  said  I,  as  a 
rush  of  tears  half  choked  my  utterance. 

"  Dead ! "  said  he,  repeating  the  word  two  or  three 
times — "  dead !  Well,  well,  I  wonder  will  M&ster  George 
keep  the  dogs  now.  There  seldom  comes  a  better  j  and 
'twas  himself  that  liked  the  cry  o'  them." 

He  tottered  from  the  room  as  he  spoke,  and  I  could  hear 
him  muttering  the  same  words  over  and  over,  as  he  crept 
slowly  down  the  stair. 

I  have  said  that  this  painful  stroke  of  fortune  was  as  a 
dream  to  me,  and  so  for  three  days  I  felt  it.  The  altered 
circumstances  of  everything  about  me  were  inexplicable 


DABBY — THE    "  BLAST."  17 

to  my  puzzled  brain.  The  very  kindness  of  the  servants — 
so  unusual  to  me — struck  me  forcibly.  They  felt  that  the 
time  was  past  when  any  sympathy  for  me  had  been  the 
passport  to  disfavour,  and  they  pitied  me. 

The  funeral  took  place  on  the  third  morning.  Mr. 
Basset  having  acquainted  my  brother  that  there  was  no 
necessity  for  his  presence,  even  that  consolation  was 
denied  me,  to  meet  him  who  alone  remained  of  all  my 
name  and  house  belonging  to  me.  How  I  remember 
every  detail  of  that  morning !  The  silence  of  the  long 
night  broken  in  upon  by  heavy  footsteps  ascending  the 
stairs — strange  voices,  not  subdued  like  those  of  all  in  our 
little  household,  but  loud  and  coarse — even  laughter  I 
could  hear — the  noise  increasing  at  each  moment.  Then 
the  muffled  sound  of  wheels  upon  the  snow,  and  the  cries 
of  the  drivers  as  they  urged  their  horses  forward.  Then 
a  long  interval,  in  which  nought  was  heard  save  the  happy 
whistle  of  some  poor  postilion,  who,  careless  of  his  errand, 
wiled  away  the  tedious  time  with  a  lively  tune.  And, 
lastly,  there  came  the  dull  noise  of  feet  moving  step  by 
step  down  the  stair,  the  muttered  words,  the  shuffling 
sound  of  feet  as  they  descended,  and  the  clank  of  the 
coffin  as  it  struck  against  the  wall. 

The  long,  low  parlour  was  filled  with  people,  few  of 
whom  I  had  ever  seen  before.  They  were  broken  up  into 
little  knots,  chatting  cheerfully  together,  while  they  made 
a  hurried  breakfast.  The  table  and  sideboard  were  covered 
with  a  profusion  I  had  never  witnessed  previously.  De- 
canters of  wine  passed  freely  from  hand  to  hand  ;  and 
although  the  voices  fell  somewhat  as  I  appeared  amidst 
them,  I  looked  in  vain  for  one  touch  of  sorrow  for  the  dead, 
or  even  respect  for  his  memory. 

As  I  took  my  place  in  the  carriage  beside  the  attorney, 
a  kind  of  dreamy  apatliy  settled  down  on  me,  and  I  scarcely 
knew  what  was  passing.  I  only  remember  the  horrible 
shrinking  sense  of  dread  with  which  I  recoiled  from  his 
one  attempt  at  consolation,  and  the  abrupt  way  in  which 
he  desisted,  and  turned  to  converse  with  the  doctor.  How 
my  heart  sickened  as  we  drew  near  the  churchyard,  and  I 
beheld  the  open  gate  that  stood  wide  awaiting  us.  The 
dusky  figures,  with  their  mournful  black  cloaks,  moved 
across  the  snow,  like  spirits  of  some  gloomy  world ; 


18  fOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

while  6he  death-bell  echoed  in  my  ears,  and  sent  a  shu  ddor- 
ing  through  my  frame. 

****** 

****** 

"  What  is  to  become  of  the  second  boy  ? "  said  the 
clergyman,  in  a  low  whisper,  but  which,  by  some  strange 
fatality,  struck  forcibly  on  my  ear. 

"  It's  not  much  matter,"  replied  Basset,  still  lower ;  "  for 
the  present  he  goes  home  with  me.  Tom,  I  say,  you  come 
back  with  me  to-day." 

"  N"o,"  said  I,  boldly,  "  I'll  go  home  again." 

"  Home  !  "  repeated  he,  with  a  scornful  laugh — "  home  ! 
And  where  may  that  be,  youngster?  " 

"  For  shame,  Basset !  "  said  the  clergyman,  "  don't  speak 
that  way  to  him.  My  little  man,  you  can't  go  home  to- 
day. Mr.  Basset  will  take  you  with  him  for  a  few  days, 
until  your  late  father's  will  is  known,  and  his  wishes 
respecting  you." 

"  I'll  go  home,  sir,"  said  I,  but  in  a  fainter  tone,  and 
with  tears  in  my  eyes. 

"  Well,  well,  let  him  do  so  for  to-day  ;  it  may  relieve  his 
poor  heart.  Come,  Basset,  I'll  take  him  back  myself." 

I  clasped  his  hand  as  he  spoke,  and  kissed  it  over  and 
over. 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  cried  Basset.  "I'll  come  over  and 
fetch  him  to-morrow ;"  and  then  he  added,  in  a  lower 
tone,  "and  before  that  you'll  have  found  out  quite  enough 
to  be  heartily  sick  of  your  charge." 

All  the  worthy  vicar's  efforts  to  rouse  me  from  my  stupor 
or  interest  me  failed.  He  brought  me  to  his  house,  where, 
amid  his  own  happy  children,  he  deemed  my  heart  would 
have  yielded  to  the  sympathy  of  my  own  age  ;  but  I  pined 
to  get  back :  I  longed — why,  I  knew  not — to  be  in  my 
own  little  chamber,  alone  with  my  grief.  In  vain  he  tried 
every  consolation  his  kind  heart  and  his  life's  experience 
had  taught  him ;  the  very  happiness  I  witnessed  but  re- 
minded me  of  my  own  state,  and  I  pressed  the  more 
eagerly  to  return. 

It  was  late  when  he  drew  up  to  the  door  of  the  house, 
to  which  already  the  closed  window-shutters  had  given  a 
look  of  gloom  and  desertion.  We  knocked  several  times 
before  any  one  came,  and  at  length  two  or  thvee  heada 


DABBY — THE    "  BLAST."  19 

appeared  at  an  upper  window,  in  half-terror  at  the  unlooked- 
for  summona  for  admission. 

"  Good-bye,  my  dear  boy,"  said  the  vicar,  as  he  kissed 
me ;  "  don't  forget  what  I  have  been  telling  you.  It  will 
make  you  bear  your  present  sorrow  better,  and  teach  you 
to  be  happier  when  it  is  over." 

"  Come  down  to  the  kitchen,  alannah,"  said  the  old  cook, 
as  the  hall  door  closed — "  come  down  and  sit  with  us  there ; 
sure  it's  no  wonder  your  heart  'ud  be  low." 

"  Yes,  Master  Tommy,  and  Darby  j  the  blast '  is  there, 
and  a  tune  and  the  pipes  will  raise  you." 

I  suffered  myself  to  be  led  along  listlessly  between  them 
to  the  kitchen,  where,  around  a  huge  fire  of  red  turf,  the 
servants  of  the  house  were  all  assembled,  together  with 
some  neighbouring  cottagers,  Darby  "  the  blast  "  occupy- 
ing a  prominent  place  in  the  party,  his  pipes  laid  across  his 
knees,  as  he  employed  himself  in  concocting  a  smoking 
tumbler  of  punch. 

"  Your  most  obadient,"  said  Darby,  with  a  profound 
reverence,  as  I  entered.  "  May  I  make  so  bowld  as  to 
surmise  that  my  presence  isn't  unsay sonable  to  your  feel- 
iii's  ?  for  I  wouldn't  be  contumacious  enough  to  adjudicate 
without  your  honour's  permission." 

What  I  muttered  in  reply  I  know  not ;  but  the  whole 
party  were  speedily  reseated,  every  eye  turned  admiringly 
on  Darby  for  the  very  neat  and  appropriate  expression  of 
his  apology. 

Young  as  I  was,  and  slight  as  had  been  the  considera- 
tion heretofore  accorded  me,  there  was  that  in  the  lonely 
desolation  of  my  condition  which  awakened  all  their 
sympathies,  and  directed  all  their  interests  towards  me ; 
and  in  no  country  are  the  differences  of  rank  such  slight 
barriers  in  excluding  the  feeling  of  one  portion  of  the 
community  from  the  sorrows  of  the  others.  The  Irish 
peasant,  however  humble,  seems  to  possess  an  intuitive 
tact  on  this  subject,  and  to  minister  all  the  consolations  in 
his  power  with  a  gentle  delicacy  that  cannot  be  sur- 
passed. 

The  silence  caused  by  my  appearing  among  them  was 
unbroken  for  some  time  after  I  took  my  seat  by  the  fire ; 
and  the  only  sounds  were  the  clinking  of  a  spoon  against 
the  glass,  or  the  deep-drawn  sigh  of  some  compassionate 


20  TOM  BURKE   OP   "  OURS.' 

soul,  as  she  wiped  a  stray  tear  from  the  corner  of  her  eye 
with  her  apron. 

Darby  alone  manifested  a  little  impatience  at  the  sud- 
den change  in  a  party  where  his  powers  of  agreeability 
had  so  lately  been  successful,  and  fidgeted  on  his  chair, 
unscrewed  his  pipes,  blew  into  them,  screwed  them  on 
again,  and  then  slyly  nodded  over  to  the  housemaid,  as 
he  raised  his  glass  to  his  lips. 

"  Never  mind  me,"  said  I  to  the  old  cook,  who,  between 
grief  and  the  glare  of  a  turf  fire,  had  her  face  swelled  out 
to  twice  its  natural  size — "  never  mind  me,  Molly,  or  I'll 
go  away." 

"  And  why  would  you,  darlin'  ?  Troth,  no !  sure  there's 
nobody  feels  for  you  like  them  that  was  always  about  you. 
Take  a  cup  of  tay,  alannah — it'll  do  you  good." 

"  Yes,  Master  Tom,"  said  the  butler ;  "  you  never  tasted 
anything  since  Tuesday  night." 

"  Do,  sir,  av  ye  plaze !  "  said  the  pretty  housemaid,  as 
she  stood  before  me,  cup  in  hand. 

"  Arrah !  what's  tay  ?  "  said  Darby,  in  a  contemptuous 
tone  of  voice :  "a  few  dirty  laves,  with  a  drop  of  water 
on  top  of  them,  that  has  neither  beatification  nor  invigo- 
ration.  Here's  the  'fons  animi!"'  said  he,  patting  the 
whisky  bottle  affectionately.  "  Did  ye  ever  hear  of  the 
ancients  indulging  in  tay  ?  D'ye  think  Polyphamus  and 
Jupither  took  tay  ?  " 

The  cook  looked  down  abashed  and  ashamed. 

"  Tay's  good  enough  for  women — no  offence,  Mrs. 
Cook ! — but  you  might  boil  down  Paykin  and  it'd  never 
be  potteen.  '  Ex  quo  vis  llgno  non  jit  Mercurius ' —  '  You 
can't  make  a  silk  purse  out  of  a  sow's  ear.'  That's  the 
meaning  of  it — ligno's  a  sow." 

Heaven  knows  I  was  in  no  mirthful  mood  at  that 
moment,  but  I  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughing  at  this,  in 
which,  from  a  sense  of  politeness,  the  party  all  joined. 

"  That's  it,  acushla ! "  said  the  old  cook,  as  her  eyes 
sparkled  with  delight;  "  sure  it  makes  my  heart  light  to 
see  you  smilin'  again.  Maybe  Darby  would  raise  a  tune 
now,  and  there's  nothing  equal  to  it  for  the  spirits." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  M'Keown,"  said  the  housemaid,  "  play  '  Kiss 
me  twice  ; '  Master  Tom  likes  it." 

"  Devil  a  doubt  he  does,"  replied  Darby,  so  maliciously 


DARBY — THE    "BLAST."  81 

as  to  make  poor  Kitty  blush  a  deep  scarlet,  "  and  no 
shame  to  him!  But  you  see  my  fingers  is  cut,  Master 
Tom,  and  I  can't  perform  the  reduplicating  intonations 
with  proper  effect." 

"  How  did  that  happen,  Darby  ?  "  said  the  butler. 

"  Faix,  easy  enough.  Tim  Daly  and  myself  was  hunt- 
ing a  cat  the  other  evening,  and  she  was  under  the 
dhresser,  and  we  wor  poking  her  with  a  burnt  stick  and  a 
rayping-hook,  and  she  somehow  always  escaped  us,  and 
except  about  an  inch  of  her  tail  that  we  cut  off,  there  was 
no  getting  at  her ;  and  at  last  I  hated  a  toastin'-fork  and  put 
it  in,  when  out  she  flew,  teeth  and  claws,  at  me.  Look, 
there's  where  she  stuck  her  thieving  nails  into  my  thumb, 
and  took  the  piece  clean  out.  The  onnatural  baste !  " 

"Arrahl"  said  the  old  cook,  with  a  most  reflective 
gravity,  "  there's  nothing  so  treacherous  as  a  cat  1 "  A 
moral  to  the  story  which  I  found  met  general  assent 
among  the  whole  company. 

"  Nevertheless,"  observed  Darby,  with  an  air  of  ill-dis- 
sembled condescension,  "  if  it  isn't  umbrageous  to  your 
honour,  I'll  intonate  something  in  the  way  of  an  ode,  or  a 
canticle." 

"  One  of  your  own,  Darby,"  said  the  butler,  inter- 
rupting. 

"  Well,  I've  no  objection,"  replied  Darby,  with  an 
affected,  modesty;  "for  you  see,  master,  like  Homer,  I 
accompany  myself  on  the  pipes,  though — glory  be  to  God ! 
— I'm  not  blind.  The  little  thing  I'll  give  you  is  imitated 
from  the  ancients — like  Tibullus  or  Euthropeus — in  the 
natural  key." 

Mister  M'Keown,  after  this  announcement,  pushed  hii 
empty  tumbler  towards  the  butler  with  a  significant  glance, 
gave  a  few  preparatory  grunts  with  the  pipes,  followed  by 
a  long  dolorous  quaver,  and  then  a  still  more  melancholy 
cadence,  like  the  expiring  bray  of  an  asthmatic  jackass — 
all  of  which  Bounds,  seeming  to  be  the  essential  prelimi- 
naries to  any  performance  on  the  bagpipes,  were  listened 
to  with  great  attention  by  the  company.  At  length, 
having  assumed  an  imposing  attitude,  he  lifted  up  botl 
elbows,  tilted  his  little  finger  affectedly  up,  dilated  hift> 
cheeks,  and  began  the  following  to  the  well-known  air 
of  "Una:" 

Vol.  28— (2) 


22  TOM   BURKE   OF    "  OUBS," 


MUSIC. 

Of  all  the  arts  and  sciences, 

'Tis  music  surely  takes  the  sway; 
It  has  its  own  appliances 

To  melt  the  heart,  or  make  it  gay. 
To  raise  us, 
Or  plaze  us, 

There's  nothing  with  it  can  compare ; 
To  make  us  bowld, 
Or  hot,  or  cowld, 
Just  as  suits  the  kind  of  air. 

There's  not  a  woman,  man,  or  child, 
That  hasn't  felt  its  powers  too  : 

Don't  deny  it ! — when  you  smiled 
Your  eyes  confess'd — that  so  did  you. 

The  very  winds  that  sigh  or  roar — 

The  leaves  that  rustle,  dry  and  sear— 
The  waves  that  beat  upon  the  shore — 
They  all  are  music  to  your  ear. 

It  was  of  use 

To  Orpheus, 
He  charmed  the  fishes  in  the  say ; 

So  everything 

Alive  can  sing — 
The  kettle  even  sings  for  tay  ! 

There's  not  a  woman,  man,  or  child, 
That  hasn't  felt  its  power  too  ; 

Don't  deny  it ! — when  you  smiled 
Your  eyes  confess'd — that  so  did  yon. 

I  have  certainly,  since  this  period,  listened  to  more  bril- 
liant musical  performances,  but,  for  the  extent  of  the 
audience,  I  do  not  think  it  was  possible  to  reap  a  more 
overwhelming  harvest  of  applause.  Indeed  the  old  cook 
kept  repeating  stray  fragments  of  the  words  to  every  air 
that  crossed  her  memory  for  the  rest  of  the  evening ;  and 
as  for  Batty,  I  intercepted  more  than  one  soft  glance  in- 
tended for  Mister  M'Keown  as  a  reward  for  his  minstrelsy. 

Darby,  to  do  him  justice,  seemed  fully  sensible  of  his 
triumph,  and  sat  back  in  his  chair,  and  imbibed  his  liquor 
like  a  man  who  had  won  his  laurels,  and  needed  no  further 
efforts  to  maintain  his  eminent  position  in  life. 

As  the  wintry  wind  moaned  dismally  without,  and  the 


DABBY — THE    "BLAST/*  28 

leafless  trees  shook  and  trembled  with  the  cold  blast,  the 
party  drew  in  closer  to  the  cheerful  torf  fire,  with  that 
sense  of  selfish  delight  that  seems  to  revel  in  the  contrast 
of  in-door  comfort  with  the  bleakness  and  dreariness  with- 
out. 

"  Well,  Darby,"  said  the  butler,  "  you  weren't  far  wrong 
when  you  took  my  advice  to  stay  here  for  the  night ;  listen 
to  how  it's  blowing." 

"  That's  hail,"  said  the  old  cook,  as  the  big  drops  came 
pattering  down  the  chimney,  and  hissed  on  the  red  embers 
as  they  fell.  "  It's  a  cruel  night,  glory  be  to  God  !"  Here 
the  old  lady  blessed  herself — a  ceremony  which  the  others 
followed. 

"  For  all  that,"  said  Darby,  "  I  ought  to  be  up  at  Crock- 
navorrigha  this  blessed  evening.  Joe  Neale  was  to  be 
married  to-day." 

"  Joe  !  is  it  Joe  ?  "  said  the  butler. 

"  I  wish  her  luck  of  him,  whoever  she  is,"  added  the 
cook. 

"  Faix,  and  he's  a  smart  boy,"  chimed  in  the  housemaid, 
with  something  not  far  from  a  blush  as  she  spoke. 

"  He  was  a  raal  devil  for  coortin',  any  how,"  said  the 
butler. 

"  It's  just  for  peace  he's  marrying  now,  then,"  said 
Darby ;  "  the  women  never  gave  him  any  quietness — just 
so,  Kitty,  you  needn't  be  looking  cross  that  way — it's  truth 
I'm  telling  you  ;  they  were  always  coming  about  him,  and 
teasing  him,  and  the  like,  and  he  couldn't  bear  it  any 
longer." 

"Arrah,  howld  your  prate,"  interrupted  the  old  cook, 
whose  indignation  for  the  honour  of  the  sex  could  not 
endure  more  ;  "  he's  the  biggest  liar  from  this  to  himself 
— and  that  same's  not  a  small  word,  Darby  M'Keown." 

There  was  a  pointedness  in  the  latter  part  of  this 
speech  which  might  have  led  to  angry  consequences,  had  I 
not  interposed,  by  asking  Mr.  M'Keown  himself  if  he  ever 
was  in  love. 

"  Arrah,  it's  wishing  it,  I  am,  the  same  love.  Sure  my 
back  and  sides  is  sore  with  it — my  misfortunes  would  fill 
a  book.  Didn't  I  bind  myself  apprentice  to  a  v.  tirpenter, 
for  love  of  Molly  Scraw,  a  niece  he  had,  just  to  be  near 
her,  and  be  looking  at  her,  and  that's  the  way  I  shaved  off 


24  TOM   BURKE   OP   "  OURS.** 

the  top  of  my  thumb  with  the  plane.  By  the  mortial, 
it  was  near  killing  me ;  I  usedn't  to  oat  or  drink ;  and 
though  I  was  three  years  at  the  thrade,  faix,  at  the  end  of 
it,  I  couldn't  tell  you  the  gimlet  from  the  handsaw." 

"  And  you  wor  never  married,  Mister  M'Keown  ?  "  said 
Kitty. 

"Never,  my  darling,  hut  often  mighty  near  it.  Many's 
the  quare  thing  happened  to  me,"  said  Darby,  meditat- 
ingly ;  "  and  sure  if  it  wasn't  my  guardian  angel,  or  some- 
thing of  the  kind  prevented  it,  I'd  maybe  have  more  wive? 
this  day  than  the  Emperor  of  Roossia  himself." 

"  Arrah,  don't  be  talking,"  grunted  out  the  old  cook, 
whose  passion  could  scarcely  be  restrained  at  the  boastful 
tone  Mister  M'Keown  assumed  in  descanting  on  his  suc- 
cesses. 

"There  was  Biddy  Finn,"  continued  Darby,  without 
paying  any  attention!  to  the  cook's  interruption  ;  "  she 
might  be  Mrs.  M'Keown  this  day,  av  it  wasn't  for  a  re- 
markable thing  that  happened." 

"  What  was  that  ?"  said  Kitty,  with  eager  curiosity. 

"  Tell  us  about  it,  Mister  M'Keown,"  said  the  butler. 

"  The  devil  a  word  of  truth  he'll  tell  you,"  grumbled 
the  cook,  as  she  raked  the  ashes  with  a  stick. 

"  There's  them  here  does  not  care  for  agreeable  inter- 
coorse,"  said  Darby,  assuming  a  grand  air. 

"  Come,  Darby,  I'd  like  to  hear  the  story,"  said  I. 

After  a  few  preparatory  scruples,  in  which  modesty, 
offended  dignity,  and  conscious  merit  struggled,  Mr. 
M'Keown  began  by  informing  us  that  he  had  once  a  most 
ardent  attachment  to  a  certain  Biddy  Finn,  of  Bally clough, 
a  lady  of  considerable  personal  attractions,  to  whom,  for  a 
long  time,  he  had  been  constant,  and  at  last,  through  the 
intervention  of  Father  Curtin,  agreed  to  marry.  Darby'a 
consent  to  the  arrangements  was  not  altogether  the  result 
of  his  reverence's  eloquence,  nor  indeed  the  justice  of  the 
case — nor  was  it  quite  owing  to  Biddy's  black  eyes  and 
pretty  lips — but  rather  to  the  soul-persuading  powers  of 
some  fourteen  tumblers  of  strong  punch  which  he  swal- 
lowed at  a  stance  in  Biddy's  lather's  house,  one  cold 
evening  in  November  ;  after  which  he  betook  himself  to 

the   road  homewards, where But  we  must  give  hia 

story  in  his  own  words : — 


DABBY — THE    "  BLAST."  25 

"  Whether  it  was  the  prospect  of  happiness  before  me, 
or  the  potteen,"  quoth  Darby,  "  but  so  it  was,  I  never  felt 
a  step  of  the  road  home  that  night,  though  it  was  every 
foot  of  five  mile.  When  I  came  to  a  stile,  I  used  to  give 
a  whoop,  and  over  it ;  then  I'd  run  for  a  hundred  yards  or 
two,  nourish  my  stick,  cry  out, '  Who'll  say  a  word  against 
Biddy  Finn  ?  '  and  then  over  another  fence,  flying.  Well, 
I  reached  home  at  last,  and  wet  enough  I  was,  but  I  didn't 
care  for  that.  I  opened  the  door  and  struck  a  light — there 
was  the  least  taste  of  kindling  on  the  hearth,  and  I  put 
eome  dry  sticks  into  it,  and  some  turf,  and  knelt  down  and 
began  blowing  it  up. 

"  '  Troth,'  says  I  to  myself,  '  if  I  wor  married,  it  isn't 
this  way  I'd  be — on  my  knees  like  a  nagur ;  but  when  I'd 
come  home,  there  'ud  be  a  fine  fire  blazin'  fornint  me,  and 
a  clean  table  out  before  it,  and  a  beautiful  cup  of  tay 
waiting  for  me — and  somebody  I  won't  mintion,  sitting 
there,  looking  at  me,  smilin'.' 

"  *  Don't  be  making  a  fool  of  yourself,  Darby  M'Keown,' 
said  a  gruff  voice  near  the  chimley. 

"  I  jumped  at  him,  and  cried  out,  '  Who's  that  ?  '  but 
there  was  no  answer ;  and  at  last,  after  going  round  the 
kitchen,  I  began  to  think  it  was  only  my  own  voice  I 
heard ;  so  I  knelt  down  again,  and  set  to  blowing  away 
at  the  fire. 

" '  And  it's  yerself,  Biddy,'  says  I,  '  that  would  be  an  or- 
nament to  a  dacent  cabin  ;  and  a  purtier  leg  and  foot ' 

" '  Be  the  light  that  shines,  you're  making  me  sick, 
Darby  M'Keown,'  said  the  voice  again. 

"  '  The  heavens  be  about  us ! '  says  I,  '  what's  that,  and 
who  are  you  at  all  ?  '  for  someways  I  thought  I  knew  the 
voice. 

"  *  I'm  your  father  1 '  says  the  voice. 

"  '  My  father ! '  says  I.  '  Holy  Joseph,  is  it  truth  you're 
telling  me  ? ' 

"  '  The  divil  a  word  o'  lie  in  it,'  says  the  voice.  '  Take 
me  down,  and  give  me  an  air  o'  the  fire,  for  the  night's 
cowld.' 

"  '  And  where  are  you,  father,'  says  I,  *  av  it's  plasing 
to  ye  ? ' 

"  '  I'm  on  the  dhresser,'  says  he.      '  Don't  you  see  me?' 

"  '  Sorra  bit  o'  me.     Where  now  ?  ' 


26  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OUK8.** 

"  '  Arrah,  on  the  second  shelf,  next  the  rowling-pin. 
Don't  you  see  the  green  jug  ? — that's  me.' 

"  '  Oh,  the  saints  in  heaven  be  about  us  ! '  says  I ;  '  and 
are  yon  a  green  jug  ?  ' 

"  'I  am,'  says  he;  'and  sure  I  might  be  worse.  Tirn 
Healey's  mother  is  only  a  cullender,  and  she  died  two 
years  before  me.' 

"  '  Oh,  father,  darlin','  says  I,  '  I  hoped  yon  wor  in  glory, 
and  you  only  a  jug  all  this  time ! ' 

"  '  Never  fret  about  it,'  says  my  father  ;  f  it's  the  trans- 
mogrification of  sowls,  and  we'll  be  right  by-and-by. 
Take  me  down,  I  say,  and  put  me  near  the  fire.' 

"  So  I  up  and  took  him  down,  and  wiped  him  with  a 
clean  cloth,  and  put  him  on  the  hearth  before  the  blaze. 

" '  Darby,'  says  he,  '  I'm  famished  with  the  druth. 
Since  you  took  to  coortin'  there's  nothing  ever  goes  into 
my  mouth — haven't  you  a  taste  of  something  in  the 
house  ? ' 

"  I  wasn't  long  till  I  hated  some  wather,  and  took  down 
the  bottle  of  whisky  and  some  sugar,  and  made  a  rousing 
jugful,  as  strong  as  need  be. 

"  '  Are  you  satisfied,  father  ?  '  says  I. 

"  I  am,'  says  he,  '  you're  a  dutiful  child  ;  and  here's 
your  health,  and  don't  be  thinking  of  Biddy  Finn.' 

"With  that  my  father  began  to  explain  how  there  was 
never  any  rest  nor  quietness  for  a  man  after  he  married — 
more  be  token,  if  his  wife  was  fond  of  talking  ;  and  that  he 
never  could  take  his  dhrop  of  drink  in  comfort  afterwards. 

" '  May  I  never,'  says  he,  '  but  I'd  rather  be  a  green 
jug,  as  I  am  now,  than  alive  again  wid  your  mother. 
Sure  it's  not  here  yon'd  be  sitting  to-night,'  says  he, 
'  discoorsing  with  me,  av  you  wor  married,  devil  a  bit. 
Fill  me,'  says  my  father,  'and  I'll  tell  you  more.' 

"And  sure  enough  I  did,  and  we  talked  away  till  near 
daylight ;  and  then  the  first  thing  I  did  was  to  take  the 
ould  mare  out  of  the  stable,  and  set  off  to  Father  Curtin, 
and  towld  him  all  about  it,  and  how  my  father  wouldn't 
give  his  consent  by  no  means. 

"  '  We'll  not  mind  the  marriage,'  says  his  rivirence ;  '  but 
go  back  and  bring  me  your  father — the  jug,  I  mean — and 
we'll  try  and  get  him  out  of  trouble — for  it's  trouble  he's 
in,  or  he  wouldn't  be  that  way.  Give  me  the  two-pound- 


DABBY THE    "  BLAST."  27 

ten,'  says  the  priest :  *  you  had  it  for  the  wedding,  and  it 
will  be  better  spent  getting  your  father  out  of  purgatory 
than  sending  you  into  it.'  " 

"  Arrah,  aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself?"  cried  the 
cook,  with  a  look  of  ineffable  scorn,  as  he  concluded. 

"  Look  now,"  said  Darby,  "  see  this — if  it  isn't 
,/thruth " 

"  And  what  became  of  your  father  ?  "  interrupted  the 
butler. 

"  And  Biddy  Finn,  what  did  she  do  ?  "  said  the  house- 
maid. 

Darby,  however,  vouchsafed  no  reply,  but  sat  back  in 
his  chair  with  an  offended  look,  and  sipped  his  liquor  in 
silence. 

A  fresh  brew  of  punch  under  the  butler's  auspices 
speedily,  however,  dispelled  the  cloud  that  hovered  over 
the  conviviality  of  the  party  ;  and  even  the  cook  vouch- 
safed to  assist  in  the  preparation  of  some  rashers,  which 
Darby  suggested  "  were  beautiful  things  for  the  thirst  at 
this  hour  of  the  night  " — but  whether  in  allaying  or  excit- 
ing it,  he  didn't  exactly  lay  down.  The  conversation  now 
became  general;  and  as  they  seemed  resolved  to  continue 
their  festivities  to  a  late  hour,  I  took  the  first  opportunity 
I  could,  when  unobserved,  to  steal  away  and  return  to  my 
own  room. 

No  sooner  alone  again  than  all  the  sorrow  of  my  lonely 
state  came  back  upon  me  ;  and  as  I  laid  my  head  on  my 
pillow,  the  fall  measure  of  my  misery  flowed  in  upon  my 
heart,  and  I  sobbed  myself  to  sleep. 


28  TOM   BDEKE   OF   "  OUBB.' 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE    DEPARTURE. 

THE  violent  beating  of  the  rain  against  the  glass,  and  the 
loud  crash  of  the  storm  as  it  shook  the  window-frames,  or 
snapped  the  sturdy  branches  of  the  old  trees,  awoke  me. 
I  got  up,  and,  opening  the  shutters,  endeavoured  to  look 
out ;  but  the  darkness  was  impenetrable,  and  I  could  see 
nothing  but  the  gnarled  and  grotesque  forms  of  the  leafless 
trees  dimly  marked  against  the  sky,  as  they  moved  to  and 
fro  like  the  arms  of  some  mighty  giant — masses  of  heavy 
snow  melted  by  the  rain  fell  at  intervals  from  the  steep 
roof,  and  struck  the  ground  beneath  with  a  low  sumph 
like  thunder — a  greyish,  leaden  tinge  that  marked  the 
horizon  showed  it  was  near  daybreak ;  but  there  was 
nought  of  promise  in  this  harbinger  of  morning.  Like  my 
own  career,  it  opened  gloomily  and  in  sadness  ;  so  felt  I 
at  least ;  and  as  I  sat  beside  the  window,  and  strained  my 
eyes  to  pierce  the  darkening  storm,  I  thought  that  even 
watching  the  wild  hurricane  without  was  better  than 
brooding  over  the  sorrows  within  my  own  bosom. 

How  long  I  remained  thus  I  know  not ;  but  already 
the  faint  streak  that  announces  sunrise  marked  the  dull- 
coloured  sky,  when  the  cheerful  sounds  of  a  voice  singing 
in  the  room  underneath  attracted  me.  I  listened,  and  in 
a  moment  recognized  the  piper,  Darby  M'Keown.  He 
mqved  quickly  about,  and  by  his  motions  I  could  collect 
that  he  was  making  preparations  for  his  journey. 

If  I  could  venture  to  pronounce,  from  the  merry  tones 
of  his  voice,  and  the  light  elastic  step  with  which  he  trod 
the  floor,  I  certainly  would  not  suppose  that  the  dreary 
weather  had  any  terror  for  him.  He  spoke  so  loud  that  I 
could  catch  a  great  deal  of  the  dialogue  he  maintained 
with  himself,  and  some  odd  verses  of  the  song  with  which 
from  time  to  time  he  garnished  his  reflections. 

"  Marry,  indeed  1 — catch  me  at  it — nabocklish — with  the 
country  side  before  me,  and  the  hoith  of  good  eating  and 


THE    DEPARTUKE.  29 

drinking  for  a  blast  of  the  chauntre.  Well,  well,  women's 
quare  craytures  anyway. 

Ho,  ho  !  Mister  Barney, 

No  more  of  your  blarney, 
I'd  have  you  not  make  so  free  ; 

You  may  go  where  you  plaze, 

And  make  love  at  your  ease, 
But  the  devil  may  hive  you  for  me. 

Very  well,  Ma'am — Mister  M'Keown  is  your  most  obedient 
— never  say  it  twice,  honey — and  isn't  there  as  good  fish, 
eh  ? — whoop ! 

Oh  !  my  heart  is  unazy, 
My  brain  is  run  crazy, 
Sure  it's  often  I  wish  I  was  dead  ; 
'Tis  your  smile  now  so  sweet, 
Now  your  ankles  and  feet, 
That's  walked  into  my  heart,  Molly  Spread. 

Tol  de  rol,  de  rol,  oh  ! 

Whew  !  that's  rain,  anyhow.  I  wouldn't  mind  it,  bad  as  it 
is,  if  I  hadn't  the  side  of  a  mountain  before  me  ;  but  sure 
it  comes  to  the  same  in  the  end.  Catty  Delany  is  a  good 
warrant  for  a  pleasant  evening,  and,  please  God,  I'll  be 
playing  '  Baltiorum  '  beside  the  fire  there  before  this  time 
to-night. 

She'd  a  pig  and  boneens, 

And  a  bed  and  a  dresser, 
And  a  nate  little  room 

For  the  father  confessor, 

With  a  cupboard  and  curtains,  and  something,  I'm  towld, 
That  his  riv'rance  liked,  when  the  weather  was  cowld. 

And  it's  hurroo,  hurroo  !  Biddy  O'Rafferty. 

After  all,  faix,  the  priest  bates  us  out.  There's  eight 
o'clock  now,  and  I'm  not  off — devil  a  one's  stirring  in  the 
house  either.  Well,  I  believe  I  may  take  my  leave  of  it — 
Borrow  many  tunes  of  the  pipes  it's  likely  to  hear,  with 
Tony  Basset  over  it ;  and  my  heart's  low  when  I  think  of 
that  child  there.  Poor  Tom!  and  it  was  you  liked  fun 
when  you  could  have  it." 

I  wanted  but  the  compassionate  tone  in  which  these  few 
words  were  spoken  to  decide  me  in  a  resolution  that  I  had 
been  for  some  time  pondering  over.  I  knew  that  ere  many 
hours  Basset  would  come  in  search  of  me — I  felt  that, 


80  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS." 

once  in  his  power,  I  had  nothing  to  expect  but  the  long* 
promised  payment  of  his  old  debt  of  hatred  to  me.  In  a 
few  seconds  I  ran  over  with  myself  the  prospect  of  misery 
before  me,  and  determined  at  once,  at  every  hazard,  to 
make  my  escape.  Darby  seemed  to  afford  me  the  best  pos- 
sible opportunity  for  this  purpose,  and  I  dressed  myself, 
therefore,  in  the  greatest  haste,  and,  throwing  whatever  I 
could  find  of  my  wardrobe  into  my  carpet-bag,  I  pocketed 
my  little  purse,  with  all  my  worldly  wealth — some  twelve 
Dr  thirteen  shillings — and  noiselessly  slipped  downstairs 
to  the  room  beneath.  I  reached  the  door  at  the  very 
moment  Darby  opened  it  to  issue  forth.  He  started  back 
with  fear,  and  crossed  himself  twice. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  Darby,"  said  I,  uneasy  lest  he  should 
make  any  noise  that  would  alarm  the  others  ;  "  I  want  to 
know  which  road  you  are  travelling  this  morning." 

"  The  saints  be  about  us,  but  you  frightened  me,  Master 
Tommy — though,  intermediately,  I  may  obsarve,  I'm  by 
no  ways  timorous.  I'm  going  within  two  miles  of 
Athlone." 

"  That's  exactly  where  I  want  to  go,  Darby ;  will  yon 
take  me  with  you  ?  "  for  at  the  instant  Captain  Bubbleton's 
address  flashed  on  my  mind,  and  I  resolved  to  seek  him 
out  and  ask  his  advice  in  my  difficulties. 

"  I  see  it  all,"  replied  Darby,  as  he  placed  the  tip  of  his 
finger  on  his  nose.  "  I  conceive  your  embarrassments — 
you're  afraid  of  Basset,  and  small  blame  to  you ;  but  don't 
do  it,  Master  Tommy,  don't  do  it,  alannah :  that's  the 
Hardest  life  at  all." 

"  What  ?  "  said  I,  in  amazement. 

"  To  'list :  sure  I  know  what  you're  after  ;  faix,  it  would 
sarve  you  better  to  larn  the  pipes." 

I  hastened  to  assure  Darby  of  his  error,  and  in  a  few 
words  informed  him  of  what  I  had  overheard  of  Basset's 
intentions  respecting  me. 

"Make  you  an  attorney  !"  said  Darby,  interrupting  me 
abruptly — "  an  attorney !  There's  nothing  so  mean  as  an 
attorney;  the  police  is  gentlemen  compared  to  them — they 
fight  it  out  fair  like  men ;  but  the  other  chaps  sit  in  a 
house  planning  and  contriving  mischief  all  day  long,  in- 
venting every  kind  of  wickedness,  and  then  getting  people 
to  do  it.  See,  now,  I  believe  in  my  conscience  the  devil 


THE    DEPARTUBE.  81 

was  the  first  attorney,  and  it  was  just  to  serve  his  own 
ends  that  he  bred  a  ruction  between  Adam  and  Eve.  But 
whisht !  there's  somebody  stirring.  Are  you  for  the 
road?" 

"  Yes,  Darby  ;  my  mind's  made  up." 

Indeed,  his  own  elegant  eulogium  on  legal  pursuits 
assisted  my  resolution,  and  filled  my  heart  with  renewed 
disgust  at  the  thought  of  such  a  guardian  as  Tony  Basset. 

We  walked  stealthily  along  the  gloomy  passages,  tra- 
versed the  old  hall,  and  noiselessly  withdrew  the  heavy 
bolts  and  the  great  chain  that  fastened  the  door.  The  rain 
was  sweeping  along  the  ground  in  torrents,  and  the  wind 
dashed  it  against  the  window-panes  in  fitful  gusts.  Jt 
needed  all  our  strength  to  close  the  door  after  us  against 
the  storm,  and  it  was  only  after  several  trials  that  we 
succeeded  in  doing  so.  The  hollow  sound  of  the  oak  door 
smote  upon  my  heart  as  it  closed  behind  me ;  in  an  instant 
the  sense  of  banishment — of  utter  destitution — was  present 
to  my  mind.  I  turned  my  eyes  to  gaze  upon  the  old  house 
— to  take  my  last  farewell  of  it  for  ever.  Gloomy  as  my 
prospect  was,  my  sorrow  was  less  for  the  sad  future  than 
for  the  misery  of  the  moment. 

"  No,  Master  Tom — no,  you  must  go  back,"  said  Darby, 
who  watched  with  a  tender  interest  the  sickly  paleness  of 
my  cheek,  and  the  tottering  uncertainty  of  my  walk. 

"  No,  Darby,"  said  I,  with  an  effort  at  firmness,  "  I'll 
not  look  round  any  more."  And  bending  my  head  against 
the  storm,  I  stepped  out  boldly  beside  my  companion.  We 
walked  on  without  speaking,  and  soon  left  the  neglected 
avenue  and  ruined  gate-lodge  behind  us,  as  we  reached  the 
high  road  that  led  to  Athlone. 

Darby,  who  only  waited  to  let  my  first  burst  of  sorrow 
find  its  natural  vent,  no  sooner  perceived  from  my  step, 
and  the  renewed  colour  of  my  cheek,  that  I  had  rallied  my 
courage  once  more,  than  he  opened  all  his  stores  of  agree- 
ability,  which,  to  my  inexperience  in  such  matters,  were 
by  no  means  inconsiderable.  Abandoning  at  once  all  high- 
flown  phraseology — which  Mr.  M'Keown,  I  afterwards 
remarked,  only  retained  as  a  kind  of  gala  suit  for  great 
occasions — he  spoke  freely  and  naturally  ;  lightening  the 
way  with  many  a  story — now  grave,  now  gay — he  seemed 
to  care  little  for  the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  and  looked 


82  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS.** 

pleasantly  forward  to  a  happy  evening  as  an  ample  reward 
for  the  present  hardship. 

"  And  the  Captain,  Master  Tom  ;  you  say  he's  an  agree- 
able man?"  said  Darby,  alluding  to  my  late  companion  on 
the  coach,  whose  merits  I  was  never  tired  of  recapitulating. 

"  Oh,  delightful !  He  has  travelled  everywhere,  and 
seems  to  know  everybody  and  everything.  He's  very  rich, 
too — I  forget  how  many  houses  he  has  in  England,  and 
elephants  without  number  in  India." 

"  Faix,  you  were  in  luck  to  fall  in  with  him  !  "  observed 
Darby. 

"  Yes,  that  I  was !  I'm  sure  he'll  do  something  for 
me ;  and  for  you  too,  Darby,  when  he  knows  you  have 
been  so  kind  to  me." 

"  Me !  What  did  I  do,  darling  ?  and  what  could  I  do, 
a  poor  piper  like  me  ?  Wouldn't  it  be  honour  enough  for 
me,  if  a  gentleman's  son  would  travel  the  road  with  me  ? 
Darby  M'Keown's  a  proud  man  this  day  to  have  you  beside 
him." 

A  ruined  cabin  in  the  road,  whose  blackened  walls  and 
charred  timbers  denoted  its  fate,  here  attracted  my  com- 
panion's attention.  He  stopped  for  a  second  or  two  to 
look  on  it,  and  then,  kneeling  down,  he  muttered  a  short 
prayer  for  the  eternal  rest  of  some  one  departed,  and 
taking  up  a  stone,  he  threw  it  on  a  heap  of  similar  ones 
which  lay  near  the  door-side. 

"  What  happened  there,  Derby  ?  "  said  I,  as  he  resumed 
his  way. 

"  They  wor  out  in  the  thrubles,"  was  his  only  reply,  as 
he  cast  a  glance  behind,  to  perceive  if  any  one  had  remarked 
him. 

Though  he  made  no  further  allusion  to  the  fate  of  those 
who  once  inhabited  tbe  cabin,  he  spoke  freely  of  his  own 
share  in  the  eventful  year  of  Ninety-eight ;  justifying,  aa 
it  then  seemed  to  me,  every  step  of  the  patriotic  party,  and 
explaining  the  causes  of  their  unsuccess  so  naturally  and 
BO  clearly,  that  I  could  not  help  following  with  interest 
every  detail  of  his  narrative,  and  joining  in  his  regrets  for 
the  unexpected  and  adverse  strokes  fortune  dealt  upon 
them.  As  he  warmed  with  his  subject,  he  spoke  of  France 
vdth  an  enthusiasm  that  I  soon  found  contagious  ;  he  told 
me  of  the  glorious  career  of  the  French  armies  in  Italy  and 


THE    DEPARTURE. 

Austria,  and  of  thai  wonderful  man  of  whom  I  then  heard 
for  the  first  time,  as  spreading  a  halo  of  victory  over  his 
nation ;  contrasting,  as  he  went  on,  the  rewards  which 
awaited  heroism  and  bravery  in  that  service,  with  the  pur- 
chased promotion  in  ours,  artfully  illustrating  his  position 
by  a  reference  to  myself,  and  what  my  fortunes  would  have 
been  if  born  under  that  happier  sky.  "  No  elder  brother 
there,"  said  he,  "  to  live  in  affluence,  while  the  younger 
ones  are  turned  out  to  wander  on  the  wide  world,  house- 
less and  penniless  ;  and  all  these  things  we  might  have 
done,  had  we  been  but  true  to  ourselves." 

I  drank  in  all  he  said  with  avidity;  the  bearing  of  his 
arguments  on  my  own  fortunes  gave  them  an  interest 
and  an  apparent  truth  my  young  mind  eagerly  devoured ; 
and  when  he  ceased  to  speak,  I  pondered  over  all  he  told 
me  in  a  spirit  that  left  its  impress  on  my  whole  future 
life. 

It  was  a  new  notion  to  me  to  connect  my  own  fortunes 
with  anything  in  the  political  condition  of  the  country, 
and  while  it  gave  my  young  heart  a  kind  of  martyred 
courage,  it  set  my  brain  a-thinking  on  a  class  of  subjects 
which  never  before  possessed  any  interest  for  me;  there 
was  a  flattery,  too,  in  the  thought  that  I  owed  my 
straitened  circumstances  less  to  any  demerits  of  my  own, 
than  to  political  disabilities.  The  time  was  well  chosen 
by  my  companion  to  instil  his  doctrines  into  my  heart — 
I  was  young,  ardent,  enthusiastic — my  own  wrongs  had 
taught  me  to  hate  injustice  and  oppression — my  condition 
had  made  me  feel,  and  feel  bitterly,  the  humiliation  of 
dependence ;  and  if  I  listened  with  eager  curiosity  to 
every  story  and  every  incident  of  the  bygone  rebellion, 
it  was  because  the  contest  was  represented  to  me  as  one 
between  tyranny  on  one  side  and  struggling  liberty  on  the 
Dther.  I  heard  the  names  of  those  who  sided  with  the 
insurgent  party  extolled  as  the  great  and  good  men  of 
their  country — their  ancient  families  and  hereditary  claims 
furnishing  a  contrast  to  many  of  the  opposite  party,  whose 
recent  settlement  in  the  island  and  new-born  aristocracy 
were  held  up  in  scoff  and  derision.  In  a  word,  I  learned 
to  believe  that  the  one  side  was  characterized  by  cruelty, 
oppression,  and  injustice,  the  other  conspicuous  only  for 
endurance,  courage,  patriotism,  and  truth.  What  a  pi(v 


84  TOM   BUEKB   OF   "  OURS.*' 

ture  was  this  to  a  mind  like  mine!  and  at  a  moment,  too, 
when  I  seemed  to  realize,  in  my  own  desolation,  an  exam- 
ple of  the  very  sufferings  I  heard  of. 

If  the  portrait  M'Keown  drew  of  Ireland  was  sad  and 
gloomy,  he  painted  France  in  colours  the  brightest  and 
most  seductive.  Dwelling  less  on  the  political  advan- 
tages which  the  revolution  had  won  for  the  popular  party, 
he  directed  my  entire  attention  to  the  brilliant  career  of 
glory  the  French  army  had  followed — the  triumphant 
success  of  the  Italian  campaign — the  war  in  Germany, 
and  the  splendour  of  Paris,  which  he  represented  as  a  very 
paradise  on  earth ;  but  above  all,  he  dwelt  on  the  character 
and  achievements  of  the  First  Consul,  recounting  many 
anecdotes  of  his  early  life,  from  the  period  when  he  was 
a  schoolboy  at  Brienne,  to  the  hour  when  he  dictated  the 
conditions  of  peace  to  the  oldest  monarchies  of  Europe, 
and  proclaimed  war  with  the  voice  of  one  who  came  as 
an  avenger. 

1  drank  in  every  word  he  spoke  with  avidity — the  very 
enthusiasm  of  his  manner  was  contagious — I  felt  my 
heart  bound  with  rapturous  delight  at  some  hardy  deed 
of  soldierlike  daring,  and  conceived  a  kind  of  wild 
idolatry  for  the  man  who  seemed  to  have  infused  his 
own  glorious  temperament  into  the  mighty  thousands 
around  him,  and  converted  a  whole  nation  into  heroes. 

Darby's  information  on  all  these  matters — which  seemed 
to  me  something  miraculous — had  been  obtained  at  dif- 
ferent periods  from  French  emissaries  who  were  scattered 
through  Ireland,  many  of  them  old  soldiers,  who  had 
served  in  the  campaigns  of  Egypt  and  Italy. 

"  But  sure,  if  you'd  come  with  me,  Master  Tom,  I 
could  bring  you  where  you'll  see  them  yourself,  and  you 
could  talk  to  them  of  the  battles  and  skirmishes,  for  I 
suppose  you  spake  French." 

"  Very  little,  Darby.  How  sorry  I  am  now  that  I 
don't  know  it  well." 

"  No  matter,  they'll  soon  teach  you,  and  many  a  thing 
beside.  There's  a  captain  I  know  of,  not  far  from  where 
»ve  are  this  minute,  could  learn  you  the  small  sword — 
in  style,  he  could.  I  wish  you  saw  him  in  his  green 
uniform  with  white  facings,  and  three  elegant  crosses 
upon  it  that  General  Bonaparte  gave  him  with  his  own 


THE    DEPARTURE.  85 

hands ;  he  had  them  on  one  Sunday,  and  I  never  see'd 
anything  equal  to  it." 

"  And  are  there  many  French  officers  hereabouts  ?  ** 

"  Not  now;  no,  they're  almost  all  gone.  After  the 
rising  they  went  back  to  France,  except  a  few.  Well, 
there'll  be  call  for  them  again,  please  God." 

"  Will  there  be  another  rebellion,  then,  Darby  ?  " 

As  I  put  this  question  fearlessly,  and  in  a  voice  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  at  some  distance,  a  horseman,  wrapped 
up  in  a  loose  cloth  cloak,  was  passing ;  he  suddenly  pulled 
up  short,  and  turning  his  horse  round,  stood  exactly  oppo- 
site to  the  piper.  Darby  saluted  the  stranger  respect- 
fully, and  seemed  desirous  to  pass  on,  but  the  other, 
turning  round  in  his  saddle,  fixed  a  stern  look  on  him, 
and  he  cried  out, — 

"  What !  at  the  old  trade,  M'Keown.  Is  there  no 
curing  you,  eh  ?  " 

"  Just  so,  Major,"  said  Darby,  assuming  a  tone  of 
voice  he  had  not  made  use  of  the  entire  morning;  "  I'm 
conveying  a  little  instrumental  recreation." 

"  None  of  your  d — d  gibberish  with  me.  Who's  that 
with  you  ?  " 

"  He's  the  son  of  a  neighbour  of  mine,  your  honour," 
said  Darby,  with  an  imploring  look  at  me  not  to  betray 
him.  "His  father's  a  schoolmaster — a  philomath,  as  one 
might  say." 

1  was  about  to  contradict  this  statement  bluntly,  when 
the  stranger  called  out  to  me, — 

"  Mark  me,  young  sir,  you're  not  in  the  best  of  company 
this  morning,  and  I  recommend  you  to  part  with  your 
friend  as  soon  as  may  be.  And  you,"  said  he,  turning 
to  Darby,  "let  me  see  you  in  Athlone  at  ten  o'clock  to- 
morrow. D'ye  hear  me  ?  " 

The  piper  grew  pale  as  death  as  he  heard  this  com- 
mand, to  which  he  only  responded  by  touching  his  hat 
in  silence  ;  while  the  horseman,  drawing  his  cloak  around, 
dashed  his  spurs  into  his  beast's  flanks,  and  was 
soon  out  of  sight.  Darby  stood  for  a  moment  or  two 
looking  down  the  road  where  the  stranger  had  disap- 
peared ;  a  livid  hue  coloured  his  cheek,  and  a  tremulous 
quivering  of  his  under  lip  gave  him  the  appearance  of 
one  in  ague. 


TOM   BUBKE    OF    "  OURS. 

"  I'll  be  even  with  ye  yet,"  muttered  he  between  his 
clenched  teeth ;  "  and  when  the  hour  comes " 

Here  he  repeated  some  words  in  Irish  with  a  vehemence 
of  manner  that  actually  made  my  blood  tingle  ;  then  sud- 
denly recovering  himself,  he  assumed  a  kind  of  sickly 
mile.  "  That's  a  hard  man,  the  Major." 

"  I'm  thinking,"  said  Darby,  after  a  pause  of  some  min- 
utes— "  I'm  thinking  it's  better  for  you  not  to  go  into 
Athlone  with  me ;  for  if  Basset  wishes  to  track  you  out, 
that'll  be  the  first  place  he'll  try ;  besides,  now  that  the 
Major  has  seen  you,  he'll  never  forget  you." 

Having  pledged  myself  to  adopt  any  course  my  com- 
panion recommended,  he  resumed  : — 

"  Ay,  that's  the  best  way.  I'll  lave  you  at  Ned  Malone's, 
in  the  Glen ;  and  when  I've  done  with  the  Major  in  the 
morning,  I'll  look  after  your  friend  the  Captain,  and  tell 
him  where  you  are." 

I  readily  assented  to  this  arrangement,  and  only  asked 
what  distance  it  might  yet  be  to  Ned  Malone's,  for 
already  I  began  to  feel  fatigue. 

"A  good  ten  miles,"  said  Darby,  "no  less;  but  we'll 
stop  here  above,  and  get  something  to  eat,  and  then  we'll 
take  a  rest  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  you'll  think  nothing  of 
the  road  after." 

I  stepped  out  with  increased  energy  at  the  cheering 
prospect ;  and  although  the  violence  of  the  weather  was 
nothing  abated,  I  consoled  myself  with  thinking  of  the 
rest  and  refreshment  before  me,  and  resolved  not  to  bestow 
a  thought  upon  the  present.  Darby,  on  the  other  hand, 
seemed  more  depressed  than  before,  and  betrayed  in  many 
ways  a  state  of  doubt  and  uncertainty  as  to  his  movements 
— sometimes  pushing  on  rapidly  fo?  half  a  mile  or  so,  then 
relapsing  into  a  slow  and  plodding  pace,  often  looking  backy 
too,  and  more  than  once  coming  to  a  perfect  stand-still, 
talking  the  whole  time  to  himself  in  a  low  muttering  voice. 

In  this  way  we  proceeded  for  above  two  miles,  when  at 
last  I  descried  through  the  beating  rain  the  dusky  gable 
of  a  small  cabin  in  the  distance,  and  eagerly  asked  if  that 
were  to  be  our  halting-place. 

"Yes,"  said  Darby,  "that's  Peg's  cabin;  and  though 
it's  not  very  remarkable  in  the  way  of  cookery  or  the  like, 
it's  the  only  house  within  seven  miles  of  us." 


THE    DEPARTURE.  87 

As  we  came  nearer,  the  aspect  of  the  building  became 
even  less  enticing.  It  was  a  low  mud  hovel,  with  a  miser- 
able roof  of  sods,  or  scraws,  as  they  are  technically  called ; 
a  wretched  attempt  at  a  chimney  occupying  the  gable,  and 
the  front  to  the  road  containing  a  small  square  aperture, 
with  a  single  pane  of  glass  as  a  window,  and  a  wicker  con- 
trivance in  the  shape  of  a  door,  which,  notwithstanding 
the  severity  of  the  day,  lay  wide  open  to  permit  the  exit 
of  the  smoke,  which  rolled  more  freely  through  this  than 
through  the  chimney.  A  filthy  pool  of  stagnant,  green- 
covered  water  stood  before  the  door,  through  which  a  little 
causeway  of  earth  led.  Upon  this  a  thin,  lank-sided  sow 
was  standing  to  be  rained  on,  her  long,  pointed  snout 
turned  meditatively  towards  the  luscious  mud  beside  her. 
Displacing  this  important  member  of  the  family  with  an 
unceremonious  kick,  Darby  stooped  to  enter  the  low 
doorway,  uttering  as  he  did  so  the  customary  "  God 
save  all  here ! "  As  I  followed  him  in,  I  did  not  catch 
the  usual  response  to  the  greeting  and  from  the  thick 
smoke  which  filled  the  cabin,  could  see  nothing  whatever 
around  me. 

""Well,  Peg,"  said  Darby,  "how  is  it  with  you  the 
day?" 

A  low  grunting  noise  issued  from  the  foot  of  a  little  mud 
wall  beside  the  fire-place.  I  turned  and  beheld  the  figure 
of  a  woman  of  some  seventy  years  of  age,  seated  beside 
the  turf  embers ;  her  dark  eyes,  bleared  with  smoke  and 
dimmed  with  age,  were  still  sharp  and  piercing,  and  her 
nose,  thin  and  aquiline,  indicated  a  class  of  features  by  no 
means  common  among  the  people.  Her  dress  was  the 
blue  frieze  coat  of  a  labouring  man,  over  the  woollen  gown 
usually  worn  by  women.  Her  feet  and  legs  were  bare, 
and  her  head  was  covered  with  an  old  straw  bonnet,  whose 
faded  ribbon  and  tarnished  finery  betokened  its  having 
once  belonged  to  some  richer  owner.  There  was  no  ves- 
tige of  any  furniture — neither  table,  nor  chair,  nor  dresser, 
nor  even  a  bed,  unless  some  straw  laid  against  the  wall 
in  one  corner  could  be  thus  called ;  a  pot  suspended  over 
the  wet  and  sodden  turf  by  a  piece  of  hay  rope,  and  an 
earthen  pipkin  with  water  stood  beside  her.  The  floor  of 
the  hovel,  lower  in  many  places  than  the  road  without, 
was  cut  up  into  sloppy  mud  by  the  tread  of  the  sow, 


88  TOM   BURKE    OF   "  OURS." 

who  ranged  at  will  through  the  premises.  In  a  word, 
more  dire  and  wretched  poverty  it  was  impossible  to  con- 
ceive. 

Darby's  first  movement  was  to  take  off  the  lid  and  peer 
into  the  pot,  when  the  bubbling  sound  of  the  boiling  po- 
tatoes assured  him  that  we  should  have  at  least  something 
to  eat ;  his  next  was,  to  turn  a  little  basket  upside  down 
for  a  seat,  to  which  he  motioned  me  with  his  hand  ;  then, 
approaching  the  old  woman,  he  placed  his  hand  to  hia 
mouth  and  shouted  in  her  ear, — 

"  What's  the  Major  after  this  morning,  Peg  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  gloomily  a  couple  of  times,  but  gavt, 
no  answer. 

"  I'm  thinking  there's  bad  work  going  on  at  the  town 
there,"  cried  he,  in  the  same  loud  tone  as  before. 

Peg  muttered  something  in  Irish,  but  far  too  low  to  be 
audible. 

"  Is  she  mad,  poor  thing  ?  "  said  I,  in  a  whisper. 

The  words  were  not  well  uttered,  when  she  darted  on 
me  her  black  and  piercing  eyes,  with  a  look  so  steadfast 
as  to  make  me  quail  beneath  them. 

"  Who's  that  there  ?  "  said  the  hag,  in  a  croaking,  harsh 
voice. 

"  He's  a  young  boy  from  beyond  Loughrea." 

"  No ! "  shouted  she,  in  a  tone  of  passionate  energy, 
"  don't  tell  me  a  lie.  I'd  know  his  brows  among  a  thou- 
sand :  he's  a  son  of  Mat  Burke's,  of  Cronmore." 

"  Begorra,  she  is  a  witch — devil  a  doubt  of  it,"  muttered 
Darby  between  his  teeth.  "  You're  right,  Peg,"  continued 
he,  after  a  moment.  "  His  father's  dead,  and  the  poor 
child's  left  nothing  in  the  world." 

"  And  so  ould  Mat's  dead,"  interrupted  she.  "  When 
did  he  die?" 

"  On  Tuesday  morning,  before  day." 

"  I  was  dhraming  of  him  that  morning,  and  I  thought 
he  kem  up  here  to  the  cabin  door  on  his  knees,  and  said, 
'  Peggy,  Peggy  M'Casky,  I'm  come  to  ax  your  pardon  for 
all  I  done  to  you  ;'  and  I  sat  up  in  my  bed,  and  cried  out, 
'  Who's  that?  '  and  he  said,  '  'Tis  me — 'tis  Mister  Burke — 
I'm  come  to  give  you  back  your  lease.'  '  I'll  tell  you 
what  you'll  give  me  back,'  says  I,  'give  me  the  man  whose 
heart  you  bruck  with  bad  treatment — give  me  the  two  fine 


THE    DEPARTURE.  89 

boys  you  transported  for  life — give  me  back  twenty  yearg 
of  my  own,  that  I  spent  in  sorrow  and  misery.'" 

"  Peg,  acushla !  don't  speak  of  it  any  more.  The  poor 
child  here,  that's  fasting  from  daybreak,  he  isn't  to  blame 
for  what  his  lather  did.  I  think  the  praties  is  done  by 
this  time." 

So  saying,  he  lifted  the  pot  from  the  fire,  and  carried  it 
to  the  door  to  strain  off  the  water.  The  action  seemed  to 
rouse  the  old  woman,  who  rose  rapidly  to  her  legs,  and, 
hastening  to  the  door,  snatched  the  pot  from  his  hand 
and  pushed  him  to  one  side. 

"  'Tis  two  days  since  I  tasted  bit  or  sup.  'Tis  God 
himself  knows  when  and  where  I  may  have  it  again;  but 
if  I  never  broke  my  fast  I'll  not  do  it  with  the  son  of  him 
that  left  me  a  lone  woman  this  day,  that  brought  the  man 
that  loved  me  to  the  grave,  and  my  children  to  shame  for 
ever." 

As  she  spoke,  she  dashed  the  pot  into  the  road  with 
such  force  as  to  break  it  into  fifty  pieces ;  and  then,  sitting 
down  on  the  outside  of  the  cabin,  she  wrung  her  hands 
and  moaned  piteously,  in  the  very  excess  of  her  sorrow. 

"  Let  us  be  going,"  said  Darby,  in  a  whisper.  "  There's 
no  spaking  to  her  when  she's  one  of  them  fits  on  her." 

We  moved  silently  from  the  hovel,  and  gained  the  road. 
My  heart  was  full  to  bursting — shame  and  abasement 
overwhelmed  me,  and  I  dared  not  look  up. 

"  Good-bye,  Peg.  T  hope  we'll  be  better  friends  when 
we  meet  again,"  said  Darby,  as  he  passed  out. 

She  made  no  reply,  but  entered  the  cabin,  from  which, 
in  an  instant  after,  she  emerged,  carrying  a  lighted  sod  of 
turf  in  a  rude  wooden  tongs. 

"  Come  along  quick,"  said  Darby,  with  a  look  of  terror, 
*'  she's  going  to  curse  you." 

I  turned  round,  transfixed  and  motionless.  If  my  life 
depended  on  it,  I  could  not  have  stirred  a  limb.  The  old 
woman  by  this  time  had  knelt  down  on  the  road,  and  was 
muttering  rapidly  to  herself. 

"  Come  along,  I  say,"  said  Darby,  pulling  me  by  the 
»rm. 

"  And  now,"  cried  the  hag  aloud,  "  may  bad  luck  be 
your  shadow  wherever  you  walk,  with  sorrow  behind  and 
bad  hopes  before  you — may  you  never  taste  happiness 


40  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS.*' 

nor  ease,  and,  like  this  turf,  may  your  heart  be  always 

burning  here,  and " 

*  heard  no  more,  for  Darby,  tearing  me  away  by  main 
force,  dragged  me  along  the  road,  just  as  the  hissing  turf 
embers  had  fallen  at  my  feet,  where  the  hag  had  thrown 
them. 


CHAPTEE    IV. 

XT  WANDERINGS. 

I  CANNOT  deny  it,  the  horrible  imprecation  I  had  heard 
uttered  against  me  seemed  to  fill  up  the  cup  of  my  misery. 
An  outcast,  without  home,  without  a  friend,  this  alone 
was  wanting  to  overwhelm  me  with  very  wretchedness; 
and,  as  I  covered  my  face  with  both  hands,  I  thought  my 
heart  would  break. 

"  Come,  come,  Master  Tom,"  said  Darby,  "  don't  be 
afeard,  it'll  never  do  yon  harm,  all  she  said.  I  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross  on  the  road  between  you  and  her  with  the 
end  of  my  stick,  and  you're  safe  enough  this  time.  Faix, 
she's  a  quare  divil  when  she's  roused — to  destroy  an  illigint 
pot  of  praties  that  way ;  but  sure  she  had  hard  provoca- 
tion. Well,  well,  you  warn't  to  blame,  any  how :  Tony 
Basset  will  have  a  sore  reckoning  some  day  for  all  this." 

The  mention  of  that  name  recalled  me  in  a  moment  to 
the  consideration  of  my  own  danger  if  he  were  to  succeed 
in  overtaking  me,  and  I  eagerly  communicated  my  fear  to 
Darby. 

"  That's  thrue,"  said  he ;  "  we  must  leave  the  high 
road,  for  Basset  will  be  up  at  the  house  by  this,  and  will 
lose  no  time  in  following  you  out.  If  you  had  a  bit  of 
something  to  eat." 

"  As  to  that,  Darby,"  said  I,  with  a  sickly  effort  to 
smile,  "  Peg's  curse  took  away  my  appetite,  full  as  well  an 
her  potatoes  would  have  done." 


MY   WANDERINGS.  41 

*'  Tis  a  bad  way  to  breakfast,  after  all,"  said  Darby. 
*'  Do  you  ever  take  a  shaugh  of  the  pipe,  Master  Tom  ?  " 
"  No,"  said  I,  laughing,  "  1  never  learned  to  smoke  yet." 
"  Well,"  replied  he,  a  little  piqued  by  the  tone  of  my 
answer,  "  'tis  worse  you  might  be  doin'  than  that  same. 
Tobacco's  a  fine  thing  for  the  heart !  Many's  the  time, 
when  I'm  alone,  if  I  hadn't  the  pipe  I'd  be  lone  and 
sorrowful — thinking  over  the  hard  times  and  the  like ; 
but  when  I've  filled  my  dudeen,  and  do  be  watching  the 
smoke  curling  up,  I  begin  dhraming  about  sitting  round 
the  fire  with  pleasant  companions,  chatting  away,  and  dis- 
coorsing,  and  telling  stories  ;  and  then  I  invint  the  stories 
to  myself  about  quare  devils  of  pipers  travelling  over  the 
country,  making  love  here  and  there,  and  playing  dhroll 
tunes  out  of  their  own  heads ;  and  then  I  make  the  tunes 
to  them:  and  after  that,  maybe,  I  make  words,  and 
sometimes  lay  down  the  pipe  and  begin  singing  to  my- 
self; and  often  I  take  up  the  bagpipes  and  play  away 
with  all  my  might,  till  I  think  I  see  the  darlingest  little 
fairies  ever  you  seen  dancing  before  me,  setting  to  one 
another,  and  turning  round,  and  capering  away — down  the 
middle  and  up  again:  small  chaps,  with  three-cornered 
hats,  and  wigs,  and  little  red  coats,  all  slashed  with  goold ; 
and  beautiful  little  craytures  houlding  their  petticoats  this 
way,  to  show  a  nate  leg  and  foot ;  and  I  do  be  calling  out 
to  them — '  Hands  round ' — '  That's  your  sowl' — '  Look  at 
the  green  fellow,  'tis  himself  can  do  it* — 'Rise  the  jig, 
hoo  ! '  and  faix  'tis  sorry  enough  I'm  when  they  go,  and 
lave  me  all  alone  by  myself." 

"  And  how  does  all  that  come  into  your  head,  Darby  ?  " 
"  Troth,  'tis  hard  to  tell,"  said  Darby,  with  a  sigh  ;  "  but 
my  notion  is,  that  the  poor  man  that  has  neither  fine 
houses,  nor  fine  clothes,  nor  horses,  nor  sarvants  to  amuse 
him,  that  Providence  is  kind  to  him  in  another  way,  and 
fills  his  mind  with  all  manner  of  dhroll  thoughts,  and 
quare  stories,  and  bits  of  songs,  and  the  like  ;  and  lets 
him  into  many  a  sacret  about  fairies,  and  the  good  people, 
that  the  rich  has  no  time  for :  and  sure  you  must  have 
often  remarked  it,  that  the  quality  has  never  a  bit  of  fun 
in  them  at  all,  but  does  be  always  coming  to  us  for  some- 
thing to  make  them  laugh.  Did  you  never  lave  the 
parlour,  when  the  company  was  sitting  with  lashings  of 


42  TOM  BUKKB   OF   "  OUBS." 

\vine  and  fruit,  and  every  convaniency,  and  go  down  stairs 
to  the  kitchen,  where  maybe  there  was  nothing  but  a  salt 
herrin'  and  a  jug  of  punch,  and  if  you  did,  where  was  the 
most  fun,  I  wondher  ?  Arrah,  when  they  bid  me  play  a 
tune  for  them,  and  I  look  at  their  sorrowful  pale  faces, 
and  their  dim  eyes,  and  the  stiff  way  they  sit  upon  theif 
chairs,  I  never  put  heart  in  it ;  but  when  I  sise  '  Dirty 
James,'  or  '  The  Little  Bould  Fox,'  or  '  Kiss  my  Lady,'  for 
the  boys  and  girls,  sure  'tis  my  whole  sowl  does  be  in  the 
bag,  and  I  squeeze  the  notes  out  of  it  with  all  my  might." 

In  this  way  did  Darby  converse  until  we  reached  a  cross 
road,  when,  coming  to  a  halt,  he  pointed  with  his  finger 
to  the  distance,  and  said, — 

"  Athlone  is  down  beyond  that  low  mountain.  Now, 
Ned  Malone's  is  only  six  short  miles  from  this.  You  keep 
this  by- road  till  you  reach  the  smith's  forge,  then  turn 
off  to  the  lift,  across  the  fields,  till  you  come  to  an  ould 
ruin,  lave  that  to  your  right  hand,  and  follow  the  boreen 
straight,  'twill  bring  you  to  Ned's  doore." 

"  But  I  don't  know  him,"  said  I. 

"  What  signifies  that — sure  'tis  no  need  you  have — tell 
him  you'll  stop  there  till  Darby  the  Blast  comes  for  you  ; 
and  see,  now,  here's  all  you  have  to  do — put  your  right 
thumb  in  the  palm  of  your  lift  hand,  this  way,  and  then 
kiss  the  other  thumb,  and  then  you  have  it ;  but  mind  you 
don't  do  that  till  you're  alone  with  him — 'tis  a  token 
between  ourselves." 

"  I  wish  you  were  coming  with  me,  Darby — I'd  rather 
not  leave  you  ! " 

"  'Tis  myself  mislikes  it,  too,"  said  Darby,  with  a  sigh  ; 
"but  I  daren't  miss  going  to  Athlone,  the  Major  would 
soon  ferret  me  out — and  it's  worse  it  would  be  for  me." 

"  And  what  am  I  to  do  if  Mr.  Basset  comes  after  me  ?  " 

If  he  hasn't  a  throop  of  horse  at  his  back,  you  may 
laugh  at  him  in  Ned  Malone's.  And  now  good-bye, 
acushla ;  and  don't  let  your  heart  be  low — you'll  be  a  man 
goon,  you  know." 

The  words  of  encouragement  could  not  have  been  more 
happily  chosen  to  raise  my  drooping  spirits.  The  sense  of 
opening  manhood  was  already  stirring  within  me,  and 
waited  but  for  some  direct  occasion  to  elicit  it  in  full 
vigour. 


MY  WANDERINGS.  48 

I  shook  Darby's  hand  with  a  firm  grasp,  and,  assuming 
the  easiest  smile  I  could  accomplish,  I  set  out  on  the  path 
before  me  with  all  the  alacrity  in  my  power. 

The  first  thought  that  shot  across  my  mind  when  I 
parted  with  my  companion  was  the  utter  loneliness  of  my 
condition ;  the  next— and  it  followed  immediately  on  the 
other — was  the  bold  consciousness  of  personal  freedom. 
I  enjoyed,  at  the  moment,  the  untrammelled  liberty  to 
wander,  without  let  or  control.  All  memory  of  Tony 
Basset  was  forgotten,  and  I  only  remembered  the  restraint 
of  school  and  the  tyranny  of  my  master.  My  plan — and 
already  I  had  formed  a  plan — was  to  become  a  farmer's 
servant — to  work  as  a  daily  labourer.  Ned  Malone  would 
probably  accept  of  me,  young  as  I  was,  in  that  capacity ; 
and  I  had  no  other  ambition  than  such  as  secured  my 
independence. 

As  I  travelled  along  I  wove  within  my  mind  a  whole 
web  of  imaginary  circumstances — of  days  of  peaceful 
toil ;  of  nights  of  happy  and  contented  rest ;  of  friend- 
ship formed  with  those  of  my  own  age  and  condition ; 
of  the  long  summer  evenings,  when  I  should  ramblo 
alone  to  commune  with  myself  on  my  humble  but  happy 
lot ;  on  the  red  hearth  in  winter,  around  which  the  merry 
faces  of  the  cottagers  were  beaming,  as  some  pleasant 
tale  was  told ;  and  as  I  asked  myself,  would  I  exchange 
a  life  like  this  for  all  the  advantages  of  fortune  my 
brother's  position  afforded  him,  my  heart  replied,  No. 
Even  then  the  words  of  the  piper  had  worked  upon  me, 
and  already  had  I  connected  the  possession  of  wealth 
with  oppression  and  tyranny,  and  the  lowly  fortunes  of 
the  poor  man  as  alone  securing  high-souled  liberty  of 
thought  and  freedom  of  speech  and  action. 

I  trudged  along  through  the  storm,  turning  from  time 
to  time  to  see  that  1  was  not  pursued  ;  for,  as  the  day 
waned,  my  fear  of  being  overtaken  increased,  and  in 
every  moaning  of  the  wind  and  every  rustle  of  the 
branches  I  thought  I  heard  Tony  Basset  summoning  me 
to  stop  and  surrender  myself  his  prisoner.  This  dread 
gradually  gave  way,  as  the  loneliness  of  the  ..road  was 
unbroken  by  a  single  traveller,  the  wild  half-tilled  fields 
presented  no  living  object  far  or  near,  the  thick  rain 
swooped  along  the  swampy  earth,  and,  in  its  misty  dark- 


44  TOM   BURKE   OP   "  OUES." 

ness,  shut  out  all  distant  prospect,  and  a  sadder  picture 
eye  never  rested  on. 

At  length  I  reached  the  ruined  church  Darby  spoke  of, 
and  following  the  track  he  indicated,  soon  came  out  upon 
the  boreen,  where  for  the  first  time  some  little  shelter 
existed. 

It  was  only  at  nightfall,  when  fatigue  and  hunger  had 
nearly  obtained  the  victory  over  me,  that  I  saw,  at  some 
short  distance  in  front,  the  long  roof  of  a  well-thatched 
•abin ;  as  I  came  nearer,  I  could  perceive  that  it  contained 
several  windows,  and  that  the  door  was  sheltered  by  a 
small  porch — marks  of  comfort  by  no  means  common 
among  the  neighbouring  farmers  ;  lights  moved  here  and 
there  through  the  cabin,  and  the  voices  of  people  driving 
in  the  cows,  and  the  barking  of  dogs,  were  welcome 
sounds  to  my  ear.  A  half-clad  urchin,  of  some  seven 
years  old,  armed  with  a  huge  bramble,  was  driving  a  flock 
of  turkeys  before  him  as  I  approached  ;  but  instead  of 
replying  to  my  question,  "  If  this  were  Ned  Malone's  ?  " 
the  little  fellow  threw  down  his  weapon,  and  ran  for  his 
life.  Before  I  could  recover  from  my  surprise  at  his 
strange  conduct  the  door  opened,  and  a  large,  powerful- 
looking  man,  in  a  long  blue  coat,  appeared.  He  carried 
a  musket  in  his  hand,  which,  as  soon  as  he  perceived  the 
figure  before  him,  he  laid  down  within  the  porch,  calling 
out  to  some  one  inside, — 

"  Go  back,  Maurice — it's  nothing.  Well,  sir,"  continued 
he,  addressing  me,  "  do  you  want  anybody  hereabouts  ?  " 

"  Is  this  Ned  Malone's,  may  I  ask  ?  "  said  I. 

"  It  is,"  answered  he,  "  and  I  am  Ned  Malone,  at  your 
service ;  and  what  then  ?  " 

There  was  something  in  the  cold,  forbidding  tone  in 
which  he  spoke,  as  well  as  in  the  hard  severity  of  his  look, 
that  froze  all  my  resolution  to  ask  a  favour,  and  I  would 
gladly  have  sought  elsewhere  for  shelter  for  the  night, 
had  I  known  where  to  look. 

The  delay  this  indecision  on  my  part  created  caused  him 
to  repeat  his  question,  while  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  me  with 
a  dark  and  piercing  expression. 

"Darby  the  Blast  told  me,"  said  I,  with  a  great  effort 
to  seem  at  ease,  "that  you  would  give  me  shelter  to-night. 
To-morrow  morning  he's  to  come  here  for  me." 


MY   WANDERINGS.  45 

"And  who  are  you  ?  "  said  he,  harshly,  "that  I  am  to 
take  into  my  house  ?  In  these  troublesome  times  a  man 
may  ask  the  name  of  his  lodger." 

"  My  name  is  Burke.  My  father's  name  was  Burke,  of 
Cremore,  but  he's  dead  now." 

"  'Tis  you  that  Basset  is  after  all  day,  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell,  but  I  fear  it  may  be." 

"Well,  some  one  told  him  that  you  took  the  Dublin 
road,  and  another  sent  him  np  here,  and  the  boys  here 
sent  him  to  Durragh.  And  what  are  you  after,  young 
gentleman  ?  Do  you  dislike  Tony  Basset  ?  Is  that  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "I'm  resolved  never  to  go  home  and 
live  with  him.  He  made  my  father  hate  me,  and  through 
him  I  have  been  left  a  beggar." 

"  There's  more  than  you  has  a  score  to  settle  with 
Tony.  Come  into  the  house  and  get  your  clothes  dried. 
But  stop,  I  have  a  bit  of  a  caution  to  give  you.  If  you  see 
anything  or  anybody  while  you're  under  my  roof  that  you 
didn't  expect " 

"  Trust  me  there,"  interrupted  I,  eagerly,  and  making 
the  sign  the  piper  had  taught  me. 

"  What ! "  cried  Malone,  in  astonishment,  "  are  you  one 
of  us  ?  Is  a  son  of  Matt  Burke's  going  to  redress  the 
wrongs  his  father  and  grandfather  before  him  inflicted  ? 
Give  me  your  hand,  my  brave  boy ;  there's  nothing  in 
this  house  isn't  your  own  from  this  minit." 

I  grasped  his  strong  hand  in  mine,  and  with  a  proud 
and  swelling  heart,  followed  him  into  the  cabin. 

A  whisper  crept  round  the  various  persons  that  sat 
and  stood  about  the  kitchen  fire  as  I  appeared  among 
them ;  and  the  next  moment  one  after  another  pressed 
anxiously  forward  to  shake  hands  with  me. 

"  Help  him  off  with  his  wet  clothes,  Maurice,"  said 
Malone,  to  a  young  man  of  some  twenty  years ;  and  in  a 
few  seconds  my  wet  garments  were  hung  on  chairs  before 
the  blaze,  and  I  myself,  accompanied  with  a  frieze  coat 
that  would  make  a  waistcoat  for  an  elephant,  sat  basking 
before  the  cheerful  turf  fire.  The  savoury  steam  of  a  great 
mess  of  meat  and  potatoes  induced  me  to  peep  into  the 
large  pot  over  the  fire ;  a  hearty  burst  of  laughing  from 
the  whole  party  acknowledged  their  detection  of  my 
ravenous  hunger,  and  the  supper  was  smoking  on  the 


46  TOM   BURKE   OP   "  OURS." 

board  in  a  few  minutes  after.  Unhappily,  a  good 
number  of  years  have  rolled  over  my  head  since  that 
night ;  but  I  still  hesitate  to  decide  whether  to  my  appe- 
tite or  to  Mrs.  Malone's  cookery  I  should  attribute  it,  but 
certainly  my  performance  on  that  occasion  called  forth 
unqualified  admiration. 

I  observed,  during  the  supper,  that  one  of  the  girls  carried 
a  plateful  of  the  savoury  dish  into  a  small  room  at  the  end 
of  the  kitchen,  carefully  closing  the  door  after  her  as  she 
or  tered,  and,  when  she  came  out,  exchanging  with  Malone 
a  few  hurried  words,  to  which  the  attention  of  the  others 
was  evidently  directed.  The  caution  T  had  already  received, 
and  my  own  sense  of  propriety,  prevented  my  paying  any 
attention  to  this,  and  I  conversed  with  those  about  me, 
freely  narrating  the  whole  circumstances  of  my  departure 
from  home,  my  fear  of  Basset,  and  my  firm  resolve — come 
what  might — never  to  become  an  inmate  of  his  house  and 
family.  Not  all  the  interest  they  took  in  my  fortunes,  nor 
even  the  warm  praises  of  what  they  called  my  courage  and 
manliness,  could  ward  off  the  tendency  to  sleep,  and  my 
eyes  actually  closed  as  I  lay  down  in  my  bed,  and,  notwith- 
standing the  noise  of  voices  and  the  sounds  of  laughter  so 
near  me,  sank  into  the  heaviest  slumber. 


47 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  CABIN. 

BEFORE  day  broke,  the  stir  and  bustle  of  the  household 
awoke  me,  and,  had  it  not  been  for  the  half-open  door, 
•which  permitted  a  view  of  the  proceedings  in  the  kitchen, 
I  should  have  been  sadly  puzzled  to  remember  where  I  was. 
The  cheerful  turf  fire,  the  happy  faces,  and  the  pleasant 
voices,  all  reminded  me  of  the  preceding  night,  and  I  lay 
pondering  over  my  fortunes,  and  revolving  within  myself 
many  a  plan  for  the  future. 

In  all  the  day-dreams  of  ambition  in  which  youth  in- 
dulges, there  is  this  advantage  over  the  projects  of  maturer 
years — the  past  never  mingles  with  the  future.  In  after 
life  our  by-gone  existence  is  ever  tinging  the  time  to  come ; 
the  expectations  friends  have  formed  of  us,  the  promises 
we  have  made  to  our  own  hearts,  the  hopes  we  have  created, 
seem  to  pledge  us  to  something  which,  if  unattained, 
sounds  like  failure  ;  but,  in  earlier  years,  the  budding  con- 
sciousness of  our  ability  to  reach  the  goal  does  but  stimulate 
us,  and  never  chills  our  efforts  by  the  dread  of  disappoint- 
ment. We  have,  as  it  were,  only  bound  ourselves  in  re- 
cognizances with  our  own  hearts — the  world  has  not  gone 
bail  for  us,  and  our  falling  short  involves  not  the  ruin  of 
others,  nor  the  loss  of  that  self-respect  which  is  but  the 
reflex  of  the  opinion  of  society.  I  felt  this  strongly  ;  and, 
the  more  I  ruminated  on  it,  the  more  resolutely  bent  was  J 
to  adopt  some  bold  career — some  enterprising  path,  where 
ambition  should  supply  to  me  the  pleasures  and  excitements 
that  others  found  among  friends  and  home. 

I  now  perceived  how  unsuitable  would  be  to  me  the 
quiet  monotony  of  a  peasant's  life — how  irksome  the  recur- 
rence of  the  same  daily  occupations — the  routine  of  ceaseless 
labour — the  intercourse  with  those  whose  views  and  hopes 
strayed  not  beyond  their  own  hedge-rows.  A  soldier's  life 
appeared  to  realize  all  that  I  looked  for;  but  then,  the 
conversation  of  the  piper  recurred  to  me,  and  I  remembered 


48  TOM   BURKE   OF   "  OUKS." 

how  he  painted  these  men  to  me  as  mere  hii'eling  bravos, 
to  whom  glory  or  fame  was  nothing,  merely  actuated  by 
the  basest  of  passions,  the  slaves  of  tyranny.  All  the 
atrocities  he  mentioned  of  the  military  in  the  past  year 
came  up  before  me,  and  with  them  the  brave  resistance  of 
the  people  in  their  struggle  for  independence.  How  my 
heart  glowed  with  enthusiasm  as  I  thought  over  the  bold 
stand  they  had  made,  and  how  I  panted  to  be  a  man,  and 
linked  in  such  a  cause.  Every  gloomy  circumstance  in  my 
own  fate  seemed  as  the  result  of  that  grinding  oppression 
under  which  my  country  suffered,  even  to  the  curse  vented 
on  me  by  one  whose  ruin  and  desolation  lay  at  my  own 
father's  door.  My  temples  throbbed,  and  my  heart  beat 
painfully  against  my  side,  as  I  revolved  these  thoughts 
within  me ;  and  when  I  rose  from  my  bed  that  morning  I 
was  a  rebel  with  all  my  soul. 

The  day,  like  tha  preceding  one,  was  stormy  and  incle- 
ment. The  rain  poured  down  without  ceasing,  and  the  dark, 
louring  sky  gave  no  promise  of  better  things.  The  house- 
hold of  the  cottage  remained  all  at  home,  and  betook  them- 
selves to  such  occupations  as  in-door  permitted.  The 
women  sat  down  to  their  spinning-wheels — some  of  the 
men  employed  themselves  in  repairing  their  tools,  and 
others  in  making  nets  for  fishing ;  but  all  were  engaged. 
Meanwhile,  amid  the  sounds  of  labour  was  mixed  the  busy 
hum  of  merry  voices,  as  they  chatted  away  pleasantly,  with 
many  a  story  and  many  a  song  lightening  the  long  hours 
of  the  dark  day.  As  for  me,  I  longed  impatiently  for 
Darby's  return ;  a  thousand  half-formed  plans  were  flitting 
through  my  mind,  and  I  burned  to  hear  whether  Basset 
was  still  in  pursuit  of  me — what  course  he  was  adopting 
to  regain  me  within  his  control — if  Darby  had  seen  my 
friend  Bubbleton,  and  whether  he  showed  any  disposition 
to  befriend  and  protect  me.  These  and  such  like  thoughts 
kept  passing  through  my  mind ;  and,  as  the  storm  would 
shake  the  rude  door,  I  would  stand  up  with  eagerness, 
hoping  every  moment  to  see  him  enter.  But  the  day 
moved  on,  and  the  dusky  half-light  of  a  wintry  afternoon 
was  falling,  and  Darby  made  not  his  appearance.  "When  I 
spoke  of  him  to  the  others,  they  expressed  no  surprise  at 
his  absence,  merely  remarking  that  he  was  always  uncertain 
—no  one  knew  when  to  expect  him — that  he  rarely  came 


THE   CABIN  49 

when  they  looked  for  him,  and  constantly  dropped  in  when 
no  one  anticipated  it. 

"  There  he  is  now,  then,"  said  one  of  the  young  men, 
springing  up  and  opening  the  door ;  "  I  hear  his  voice  in 
the  glen." 

"  Do  you  see  him,  Maurice  ?  "  cried  Malone.  "  Is  it 
him  ?" 

The  young  man  stepped  back,  his  face  pale  as  death, 
and  his  mouth  partly  open.  He  whispered  a  word  in  the 
old  man's  ear,  to  which  the  other  responded  : 

"  Where  ?  "  The  youth  pointed  with  his  finger.  "  How 
many  are  they  ?  "  was  his  next  question,  while  his  dark 
eye  glanced  towards  the  old  musket  that  hung  on  the  wall 
above  the  fire. 

"  Too  many — too  many  for  us,"  said  Maurice,  bitterly. 

The  women,  who  had  gathered  around  the  speaker, 
looked  at  each  other  with  an  expression  of  utter  wretched- 
ness, when  one  of  them,  breaking  from  the  others,  rushed 
into  the  little  inner  room  off  the  kitchen,  and  slammed  the 
door  violently  behind  her.  The  next  instant  the  sound  of 
voices  was  heard  from  the  room,  as  if  in  altercation.  Ma- 
lone  turned  round  at  once,  and,  throwing  the  door  wid 
open,  called  out : 

"  Be  quiet,  I  say.  There's  not  a  moment  to  be  lost. 
Maurice,  put  that  gun  away^ — Shamus,  take  up  your  net 
again — sit  down,  girls." 

At  the  same  instant  he  drew  from  his  bosom  a  long 
horse  pistol,  and,  having  examined  the  loading  and  priming, 
replaced  it  within  his  waistcoat,  and  sat  down  on  a  chair 
beside  the  fire,  his  strongly  marked  countenance  fixed  on 
the  red  blaze,  while  his  lips  muttered  rapidly  some  words 
to  himself. 

"  Are  ye  ready  there?"  he  cried,  as  his  eyes  were  turned 
towards  the  small  door. 

"  In  a  minit,"  said  the  woman  from  within. 

At  the  same  instant  the  sounds  of  voices  and  the  regular 
tramp  of  men  marching  were  heard  without. 

"  Halt !  stand  at  ease !"  called  out  a  deep  voice,  and  the 
clank  of  the  muskets  as  they  fell  to  the  ground  was  heard 
through  the  cabin.  Meanwhile,  every  one  within  had  re- 
Bumed  his  previous  place  and  occupation,  and  the  buzz  of 
voices  resounded  through  the  kitchen,  as  though  no  inter- 


50  TOM   BURKE    OF   "  OFTIS." 

ruption  whatever  had  taken  place.  The  latch  was  now 
lifted,  and  a  sergeant,  stooping  to  permit  his  tall  feather  to 
pass  in,  entered,  followed  by  a  man  in  plain  clothes. 

The  latter  was  a  short,  powerfully-built  man,  of  about 
fifty  ;  his  hair  of  a  grizzly  grey,  contrasted  with  the  deep 
purple  of  his  countenance,  which  was  swollen  and  bloated 
—the  mouth,  its  most  remarkable  feature,  was  large  and 
thick-lipped — the  under  lip  projecting  considerably  forward, 
and  having  a  strange,  convulsive  motion  when  he  was  not 
speaking. 

"  It's  a  hard  day,  Mister  Barton,"  said  Malone,  rising 
from  his  seat,  and  stroking  down  his  hair  with  one 
hand.  "  Won't  ye  come  over  and  take  an  air  at  the 
fire  ?" 

"  I  will,  indeed,  Ned,"  said  he,  taking  the  proffered  seat, 
and  stretching  out  his  legs  to  the  blaze.  "  It's  a  severe 
seaso  we  have.  1  don't  know  how  the  poor  are  to  get  in 
the  turf;  the  bogs  are  very  wet  entirely." 

"  They  are,  indeed,  sir  ;  and  the  harvest  'ill  be  very  late 
getting  in  now,"  said  one  of  the  young  men,  with  a  most 
obsequious  voice.  "  Won't  ye  sit  down,  sir  ?"  said  he  to 
the  sergeant. 

A  nod  from  Mister  Barton  in  acquiescence  decided  the 
matter,  and  the  sergeant  was  seated. 

"  What's  here,  Maiy  ?"  said  Barton,  striking  the  large 
pot  that  hung  over  the  fire  with  his  foot. 

"  It's  the  boys'  dinner,  sir,"  said  the  girl. 

"  I  think  it  wouldn't  be  a  bad  job  if  we  joined  them," 
replied  he,  laughingly — "  eh,  sergeant  ?" 

"  There  'ill  be  enough  for  us  all,"  said  Malone,  "  and  I'm 
sure  ye're  welcome  to  it." 

The  table  was  quickly  spread,  the  places  next  the  fire 
being  reserved  for  the  strangers  ;  while  Malone,  unlocking 
a  cupboard,  took  down  a  bottle  of  whisky,  which  he  placed 
before  them,  remarking,  as  he  did  so — 

"  Dont  be  afeard,  gentlemen — 'tis  Parliament." 

"  That's  right,  Malone.  I  like  a  man  to  be  loyal  in  these 
bad  times  ;  there's  nothing  like  it.  Faith,  Mary,  you're  a 
good  cook — that's  as  savoury  a  stew  as  ever  I  tasted. 
Where's  Patsey  now?  I  haven't  seen  him  for  some 
time." 
The  girl's  face  grew  dark  red,  and  then  became  as  suddenlj 


TTIE    CABIN.  51 

pale ;  when,  staggering  back,  she  lifted  her  apron  to 
her  face,  and  leaned  against  the  dresser. 

"  He's  transported  for  life,"  said  Malone,  in  a  deep, 
sepulchral  voice,  while  all  his  efforts  to  conceal  agitation 
were  fruitless. 

"  Oh,  I  remember,"  said  Barton,  carelessly,  "  he  was  in 
the  dock  with  the  Hogans.  I'll  take  another  bone  from 
you  Ned.  Sergeant,  that's  a  real  Irish  dish,  and  no  bad 
one  either." 

"  What's  doing  at  the  town  to-day  ?''  said  Malone,  affect- 
ing an  air  of  easy  indifference. 

"  Nothing  remarkable,  I  believe ;  they  have  taken  up 
that  rascal,  Darby  the  Blast,  as  they  call  him.  The  Major 
had  him  under  examination  this  morning  for  two  hours  ; 
and  they  say  he'll  give  evidence  against  the  Dillons— a 
little  more  fat  if  ye  please — money,  you  know,  Ned,  will 
do  anything  these  times." 

"  You  ought  to  know  that,  sir,"  said  Maurice,  with  such 
an  air  of  assumed  innocence  as  actually  made  Barton  look 
ashamed.  In  an  instant,  however,  he  recovered  himself, 
and  pretended  to  laugh  at  the  remark.  "  Tour  health, 
sergeant — Ned  Malone,  your  health — ladies,  yours,  and 
boys  the  same."  A  shower  of  "  thank  ye,  sir's,"  followed 
this  piece  of  unlooked-for  courtesy.  "  Who's  that  boy 
there,  Ned  ?"  said  he,  pointing  to  me  as  I  sat  with  my  eyes 
riveted  upon  him. 

"  He's  from  this  side  of  Banagher,  sir,"  said  Malone, 
evading  the  question. 

"  Come  over  here,  younker.     What's  his  name  ?  " 

"  Tom,  sir." 

"  Come  over,  Tom,  till  I  teach  you  a  toast.  Here's  i, 
glass,  my  lad — hold  it  steady,  till  I  fill  you  a  bumper 
Did  you  ever  hear  tell  of  the  croppies  ?  " 

"  No,  never." 

"  Never  heard  of  the  croppies  !  Well,  you're  not  long- 
in  Ned  Malone's  company  anyhow — eh?  ha!  ha!  ha! 
Well,  my  man,  the  croppies  is  another  name  for  the  rebels, 
and  the  toast  I'm  going  to  give  you  is  about  them.  So 
mind  you  finish  it  at  one  pull  —  here  now,  are  you 
ready  ?  " 

"  Yes,  quite  ready,"  said  I,  as  I  held  the  brimming 
glass  straight  before  me. 


52  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OUBB.** 

**  Here's  it,  then  : — 

"  'May  every  croppy  taste  the  rop«, 

And  find  some  man  to  bang  them; 
May  Bagnal  Harvey  and  the  Pope 
Have  Heppenstal  to  hang  them.'" 

I  knew  enough  of  the  meaning  of  his  words  to  catch 
the  allusion,  and  dashing  the  glass  with  all  my  force 
against  the  wall,  I  smashed  it  into  a  hundred  pieces. 
Barton  sprang  from  his  chair,  his  face  dark  with  passion ; 
clutching  me  by  the  collar  with  both  hands,  he  cried  out, 
"  Halloa  there  without,  bring  in  the  handcuffs  here !  As 
sure  as  my  name's  Sandy  Barton,  we'll  teach  you  that  toast 
practically,  and  that  ere  long. 

"Take  care  what  you  do  there,"  said  Malone,  fiercely; 
"  that  young  gentleman  is  a  son  of  Matthew  Burke  of 
Cremore  ;  his  relatives  are  not  the  kind  of  people  to  figure 
in  your  riding-honse." 

"  Are  yon  a  son  of  Matthew  Burke  ?  " 

"  I  am." 

"What  brings  you  here  then? — why  are  you  not  at 
home  ?  " 

"  By  what  right  do  you  dare  to  ask  me?  I  have  yet  to 
learn  how  far  I  am  responsible  for  where  I  go  to  a  thief- 
catcher." 

"  You  hear  that,  sergeant ;  you  heard  him  use  a  word  to 
bring  me  into  contempt  before  the  people,  and  excite  them 
to  use  acts  of  violence  towards  me." 

"  No  such  thing,  Mister  Barton,"  said  Malone  coolly ; 
"  nobody  here  has  any  thought  of  molesting  you.  I  told 
you  that  young  gentleman's  name  and  condition,  to  prevent 
you  making  any  mistake  concerning  him ;  for  his  friends 
are  not  the  people  to  trifle  with." 

This  artfully-put  menace  had  its  effect ;  Barton  sat  down 
again,  and  appeared  to  reflect  for  a  few  minutes ;  then 
taking  a  roll  of  paper  from  his  pocket,  he  began  leisurely 
to  peruse  it.  The  silence  at  this  moment  was  something 
horribly  oppressive. 

"  This  is  a  search-warrant,  Mr.  Malone,"  said  Barton, 
laying  down  the  paper  on  the  table,  "  empowering  me  to 
seek  for  the  body  of  a  certain  French  officer,  said  to  be 
concealed  in  these  parts.  Informations  on  oath  state  that 


THE    CABIN.  53 

he  passed,  at  least,  one  night  under  your  roof.  As  he  has 
not  accepted  the  amnesty  granted  to  the  other  officers 
in  the  late  famous  attempt  against  the  peace  of  this 
country,  the  law  will  deal  with  him  as  strict  justice  may 
demand  ;  at  the  same  time,  it  is  right  you  should  know 
that  harbouring  or  sheltering  him,  under  these  circum- 
stances, involves  the  person  or  persons  so  doing  in  his 
guilt.  Mr.  Malone's  well-known  and  tried  loyalty,"  con- 
tinued Barton,  with  a  half  grin  of  most  malicious  mean- 
ing, "  would  certainly  exculpate  him  from  any  suspicion  of 
this  nature  ;  but  sworn  informations  are  stubborn  things, 
and  it  is  possible  that,  in  ignorance  of  the  danger  such  a 
proceeding  would  involve " 

"  I  thought  the  thrubbles  was  over,  sir,"  interrupted 
Malone,  wiping  his  forehead  with  the  back  of  his  hand, 
"  and  that  an  honest,  industrious  man,  that  minded  his  own 
business,  had  nothing  to  fear  from  any  one." 

"  And  you  thought  right,"  said  Barton,  slowly  and  de- 
liberately, while  he  scanned  the  other's  features  with  a 
searching  look ;  "  and  that  is  the  very  fact  I'm  come  to 
ascertain  ;  and  now,  with  your  leave,  we'll  first  search  the 
house  and  offices,  and  then  I'll  put  a  little  interrogatory 
to  such  persons  as  I  think  fit,  touching  this  affair." 

"  You're  welcome  to  go  over  the  cabin  whenever  you 
like,"  said  Malone,  rising,  and  evidently  labouring  to  re- 
press his  passionate  indignation  at  Barton's  coolness. 

Barton  stood  up  at  the  same  moment,  and  giving  a  wink 
at  the  sergeant  to  follow,  walked  towards  the  small  door 
I've  already  mentioned.  Malone's  wife  at  this  started 
forward,  and,  catching  Barton's  arm,  whispered  a  few 
words  in  his  ear. 

"  She  must  be  a  very  old  woman  by  this  time,"  said 
Barton,  fixing  his  sharp  eyes  on  the  speaker. 

"  Upwards  of  ninety,  sir,  and  bedridden  for  twelve 
years,"  said  the  woman,  wiping  a  tear  away  with  her 
apron. 

"  And  how  comes  it  she's  so  afraid  of  the  soldiers,  if 
she's  doting  ?  " 

"  Arrah  !  they  used  to  frighten  her  so  much,  coming  in 
at  night,  and  firing  shots  at  the  doore,  and  drinking  and 
singing  songs,  that  she  never  got  over  it,  and  that's  the 
rayson.  I'll  beg  of  your  honour  not  to  bring  in  the 

Vol.  28— (3) 


64  TOM    UUJRKE    OF    "  OURS." 

sergeant,  and  to  disturb  her  only  as  little  as  you  can,  for 
it  sets  her  raving  about  battles  and  murders,  and  it's  may- 
be  ten  days  before  we'll  get  her  mind  at  ease  again." 

"  Well,  well,  I'll  not  trouble  her,"  said  he,  quickly. 
"  Sergeant,  step  back  for  a  moment." 

With  this  he  entered  the  room,  followed  by  the  woman, 
whose  uncertain  step  and  quiet  gesture  seemed  to  sug- 
gest caution. 

"  She's  asleep,  sir,"  said  she,  approaching  the  bed. 
"  It's  many  a  day  since  she  had  as  fine  a  sleep  as  that. 
"Pis  good  luck  you  brought  us  this  morning,  Mister 
Barton." 

"  Draw  aside  the  curtain  a  little,"  said  Barton,  in  a 
low  voice,  as  if  fearing  to  awake  the  sleeper. 

"  'Tis  rousing  her  up,  you'll  be,  Mister  Barton.  She 
feels  the  light  at  wanst." 

"  She  breathes  very  long  for  so  old  a  woman,"  said  he 
somewhat  louder,  "  and  has  a  good  broad  shoulder,  too.  I'd 
like,  if  it  was  only  for  curiosity,  just  to  see  her  face  a  little 
closer.  I  thought  so!  Come,  Captain,  it's  no  nse " 

A  scream  from  the  woman  drowned  the  remainder  of 
the  speech,  while  at  the  same  instant  one  of  the  young 
men  shut  to  the  outside  door,  and  barred  it.  The  sergeant 
was  immediately  pinioned  with  his  hands  behind  his 
back,  and  Malone  drew  his  horse- pistol  from  his  bosom, 
and,  holding  up  his  hand,  called  out, — 

"  Not  a  word — not  a  word !  If  ye  spake,  it  will  be 
the  last  time  ever  you'll  do  so !  "  said  he  to  the  sergeant. 

At  the  same  moment,  the  noise  of  a  scuffle  was  heard 
in  the  inner  room,  and  the  door  burst  suddenly  open,  arid 
Bat-ton  issued  forth,  dragging  in  his  strong  hands  the 
figure  of  a  young,  slightly-formed  man.  His  coat  was 
off,  but  his  trousers  were  braided  with  gold,  in  military 
fashion ;  and  his  black  moustache  denoted  the  officer. 
The  struggle  of  the  youth  to  get  free  was  utterly  fruit- 
less ;  Barton's  grasp  was  on  his  collar,  and  he  held  him 
as  though  he  were  a  child. 

Malone  stooped  down  towards  the  fire,  and,  opening 
the  pan  of  his  pistol,  examined  the  priming ;  theu,  slap- 
ping it  down  again,  he  stood  erect. 

"  Barton,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  firm  determination 
I  heard  him  use  for  the  first  time — "  Barton,  it's 


THE    CABIN.  65 

bad  to  provoke  a  man  with  the  halter  ronnd  his  neck  1  I 
know  what's  before  me  well  enough  now.  But,  see,  let 
him  escape — give  him  two  hours  to  get  away — and  here 
I'll  surrender  myself  your  prisoner,  and  follow  you  where 
you  like." 

"  Break  in  the  door,  there,  blast  ye ! "  was  the  reply  to 
this  offer,  as  Barton  shouted  to  the  soldiers  at  the  top  of 
his  voice.  Two  of  the  young  men  darted  forward  as  he 
spoke,  and  threw  themselves  against  it.  "  Fire  through 
it !  "  cried  Barton,  stamping  with  passion. 

"You  will  have  it,  will  you,  then?"  said  Malone,  as 
he  ground  his  teeth  in  anger ;  then,  raising  his  pistol,  he 
sprang  forward,  and  holding  it  within  a  yard  of  Barton's 
face,  shouted  out,  "  There !  "  The  powder  flashed  in  the 
lock,  and,  quick  as  its  own  report,  Barton  hurled  the 
Frenchman  round  to  protect  him  from  the  ball,  but  only 
in  time  to  receive  the  shot  in  his  right  arm  as  he  held 
it  uplifted.  The  arm  fell  powerless  to  his  side,  while 
Malone,  springing  on  him  like  a  tiger,  grasped  him  in  his 
powerful  grip,  and  they  both  rolled  qpon  the  ground  in 
terrible  conflict.  The  Frenchman  stood  for  an  instant 
like  one  transfixed,  then,  bursting  from  the  spot,  dashed 
through  the  kitchen  to  the  small  room  I  had  slept  in.  One 
of  the  young  men  followed  him.  The  crash  of  glass,  and 
the  sounds  of  breaking  wood- work  were  heard  among  the 
other  noises,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  door  gave  way 
in  front,  and  the  soldiers  with  fixed  bayonets  entered  at  a 
charge. 

"  Fire  on  them !  fire  on  them  ! "  shouted  Barton,  as  he 
lay  struggling  on  the  ground ;  and  a  random  volley  rang 
through  the  cabin,  filling  it  with  smoke.  A  yell  of  an- 
guish burst  forth  at  the  moment,  and  one  of  the  womer. 
lay  stretched  upon  the  hearth,  her  bosom  bathed  in  blood. 
The  scene  was  now  a  terrible  one;  for,  although  over- 
powered by  numbers,  the  young  men  rushed  on  the 
soldiers,  and,  regardless  of  wounds,  endeavoured  to  wrest 
their  arms  from  them.  The  bayonets  glanced  through 
the  blue  smoke,  and  shouts  of  rage  and  defiance  rose  up 
amid  frightful  screams  of  suffering  and  woe.  A  bayonet- 
stab  in  the  side,  received  1  know  not  how,  sent  me  half 
fainting  into  the  little  room,  through  which  the  French, 
man  had  escaped.  The  open  window  being  before  me,  I 


56  TOM  BURKE   OP   "  OURS." 

did  not  deliberate  a  second,  but,  mounting  the  table,  crept 
through  it,  and  fell  heavily  on  the  turf  outside.  In  a 
moment  after  I  rallied,  and,  staggering  onwards,  reached 
a  potato-field,  where,  overcome  by  pain  and  weakness,  I 
Bank  into  one  of  the  furrows,  scarcely  conscious  of  what 
had  occurred. 

Weak  and  exhausted  as  I  was,  I  could  still  hear  the 
sounds  of  the  conflict  that  raged  within  the  cabin.  Gra- 
dually, however,  they  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  at 
last  subsided  altogether.  Yet  I  feared  to  stir;  and  al- 
though night  was  now  falling,  and  the  silence  continued 
unbroken,  I  lay  still,  hoping  to  hear  some  well-known 
voice,  or  even  the  footstep  of  some  one  belonging  to  the 
house  ;  but  all  was  calm,  and  nothing  stirred.  The  very 
air,  too,  was  hushed ;  not  a  leaf  moved  in  the  thin,  frosty 
atmosphere.  The  dread  of  finding  the  soldiers  in  posses- 
sion of  the  cabin  made  me  fearful  of  quitting  my  hiding- 
place,  and  I  did  not  move.  Some  hours  had  passed  over 
ere  I  gained  courage  enough  to  raise  my  head  and  look 
about  me. 

My  first  glance  was  directed  towards  the  distant  high- 
road, where  I  expected  to  have  seen  some  of  the  party 
who  attacked  the  cabin ;  but,  far  as  my  eye  could  reach, 
no  living  thing  was  to  be  seen ;  my  next  was  towards  the 
cabin,  which,  to  my  horror,  and  amazement,  I  soon  per- 
ceived was  enveloped  in  a  thick,  dark  smoke,  that  rolled 
lazily  from  the  windows  and  doorway,  and  even  issued 
from  the  thatched  roof.  As  I  looked,  I  could  hear  the 
crackling  of  timber  and  the  sound  of  wood  burning. 
These  continued  to  increase ;  and  then  a  red,  forked  flame 
shot  through  one  of  the  casements,  and,  turning  upwards, 
caught  the  thatch,  where,  passing  rapidly  across  the  entire 
roof,  it  burst  into  a  broad  sheet  of  fire,  which  died  out 
again  as  rapidly,  and  left  the  gloomy  smoke  triumphant. 

Meanwhile,  a  roaring  sound,  like  that  of  a  furnace,  was 
heard  from  within ;  and  at  last,  with  an  explosion  like  a 
mortar,  the  roof  burst  open,  and  the  bright  blaze  sprang 
forth  ;  the  rafters  were  soon  enveloped  in  fire,  and  the 
heated  straw  rose  into  the  air,  and  floated  in  thin  streaks 
of  flame  through  the  black  sky.  The  door-cases  and  the 
window-frames  were  all  burning,  and  marked  their  out- 
lines against  the  dark  walls ;  and,  as  the  thatch  wa*  con- 


THE    CABIN.  57 

eumed,  the  red  rafters  were  seen  like  ihe  ribs  of  a  skeleton, 
but  they  fell  in  one  by  one,  sending  up  in  their  descent 
millions  of  red  sparks  into  the  dark  air.  The  black  wall 
of  the  cabin  had  given  way  to  the  heat,  and  through  its 
wide  fissure  I  could  see  the  interior,  now  one  mass  of  un- 
distinguishable  ruin  :  nothing  remained,  save  the  charred 
and  blackened  walls. 

I  sat  gazing  at  this  sad  sight  like  one  entranced.  Some- 
times it  seemed  to  me  as  a  terrible  dream ;  and  then  the 
truth  would  break  upon  me  with  fearful  force,  and  my 
heart  felt  as  though  it  would  burst  far  beyond  my  bosom. 
The  last  nickering  flame  died  away  ;  the  hissing  sounds  of 
the  fire  were  stilled  ;  and  the  dark  walls  stood  out  against 
the  bleak  background  in  all  their  horrible  deformity,  as  I 
rose  and  entered  the  cabin.  I  stood  within  the  little  room 
where  I  had  slept  the  night  before,  and  looked  out  into  the 
kitchen,  around  whose  happy  hearth  the  merry  voices 
were  so  lately  heard.  I  brought  them  up  before  me,  in 
imagination,  as  they  sat  there.  One  by  one  I  marked 
their  places  in  my  mind,  and  thought  of  the  kindness  of 
their  welcome  to  me,  and  the  words  of  comfort  and  en- 
couragement they  spoke.  The  hearth  was  now  cold  and 
black ;  the  pale  stars  looked  down  between  the  walls,  and 
a  chill  moonlight  flickered  through  the  gloomy  ruin.  My 
heart  had  no  room  for  sorrow,  but  another  feeling  found 
a  place  within  it — a  savage  thirst  for  vengeance — ven- 
geance upon  those  who  had  desecrated  a  peaceful  home, 
and  brought  blood  and  death  among  its  inmates !  Here 
was  the  very  realization  before  my  eyes  of  what  M'Keown 
had  been  telling  me  ;  here  the  horrible  picture  he  had 
drawn  of  tyranny  and  outrage.  In  the  humble  cottagers 
I  saw  but  simple-minded  peasants,  who  had  opened  their 
doors  to  some  poor  unfriended  outcast — one  who,  like 
myself,  had  neither  house  nor  home.  I  saw  them  offering 
their  hospitality  to  him  who  sought  it,  freely  and  openly ; 
and  at  last,  adventuring  all  they  possessed  in  the  world, 
rather  than  betray  him — and  their  reward  was  this !  Oh, 
how  my  heart  revolted  at  such  oppression !  how  my  spirit 
fired  at  such  indignity !  I  thought  a  life  passed  in  op 
position  to  such  tyranny  were  too  short  a  vengeance,  and 
I  knelt  me  down  beside  that  blackened  hearth,  and  swore 
myself  its  enemy  to  the  death. 


68  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS.' 


CHAPTER  VL 

MY   EDUCATION. 

As  I  thought  over  the  various  incidents  the  last  few 
days  of  my  life  had  presented,  I  began  to  wonder  with 
myself  whether  the  world  always  went  on  thus ;  and  if 
the  same  scenes  of  misery  and  woe  I  had  witnessed  were 
in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature.  The  work  of  years 
seemed  to  me  to  have  been  accomplished  in  a  few  brief 
hours.  Here,  where  I  stood  but  yesterday,  a  happy 
family  were  met  together ;  and  now,  death  and  misfortune 
had  laid  waste  the  spot ;  and,  save  the  cold  walls,  nothing 
marked  it  as  a  human  habitation.  What  had  become  of 
them?  Where  had  they  gone  to?  Had  they  fled  from 
the  blood-stained  hands  of  the  cruel  soldiery,  or  were  they 
led  away  to  prison  ?  These  were  the  questions  constantly 
recurring  to  my  mind.  And  the  French  officer,  too — what 
of  him  j*  I  felt  the  deepest  interest  in  his  fate.  Poor 
fellow  !  he  looked  so  pale  and  sickly ;  and  yet  there  was 
something  both  bold  and  manly  in  his  flashing  eye  and 
compressed  lip.  He  was  doubtless  one  of  those  Darby 
alluded  to.  What  a  lot  was  his  ;  and  how  little  did  my 
own  sorrows  seem,  as  I  compared  them  with  his  house- 
less, friendless  condition  !  As  my  thoughts  thus  wandered 
on,  a  dark  shadow  fell  across  the  gleam  of  moonlight 
that  lit  up  the  ruined  cabin.  I  turned  suddenly,  and  saw 
the  figure  of  a  man  leaning  against  the  door-post.  For  a 
second  or  two  fear  was  uppermost  in  my  mind,  but  rally- 
ing soon,  I  called  out,  "  Who's  there  ?  " 

"  'Tis  me,  Darby  M'Keown,"  said  a  well-known  voice, 
but  in  a  tone  of  deepest  sorrow.  "  I  came  over  to  have  a 
look  at  the  ould  walls  once  more." 

"  You  heard  it  all,  then,  Darby  ?  " 

'*  Yes.  They  wor  bringing  the  prisoners  into  Athlone 
as  I  left  the  town  ;  and  I  thought  to  myself  you'd  maybe 
be  hiding  somewhere  hereabouts.  Is  the  Captain  away — 
is  he  safe  ?  " 


MY   EDUCATION.  69 

"  The  French  officer — yes — he  escaped  early  in  the 
business.  I  know  he  must  be  far  off  by  this  time. 
Heaven  knows  which  way  though." 

"  Maybe  I  could  guess,"  said  Darby,  quietly.  "Well, 
well,  it's  hard  to  know  what's  best.  Sometimes  it  would 
seem  the  will  of  God  that  we  aren't  to  succeed ;  and,  if 
we  hadn't  right  on  our  side,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  bear 
up  against  such  misfortunes  as  these." 

There  was  a  silence  on  both  sides  after  these  words, 
daring  which  I  pondered  them  well  in  my  mind. 

"Come,  Master  Tom,"  said  Darby,  suddenly;  "'tis 
time  we  were  moving.  You're  not  safe  here  no  more  nor 
others.  Basset  is  looking  for  you  everywhere,  and  you'll 
have  to  leave  the  neighbourhood,  for  a  while,  at  least. 
Y^our  friend,  the  Captain,  too,  is  gone ;  his  regiment 
inarched  yesterday ;  so  now  make  up  your  mind  what  to 
do." 

"  That's  easily  done,  Darby,"  said  I,  attempting  to 
seem  at  ease ;  "  whichever  is  your  road  shall  be  mine,  if 
you  let  me." 

"  Let  you — yes,  with  a  hearty  welcome,  too,  my  darling  ; 
but  the  first  thing  is  to  get  you  some  clothes  that  won  t 
discover  on  you.  Here's  a  hat  I  squeezed  into  my  own 
that'll  just  fit  you,  and  I've  a  coat  here  that's  about  your 
size — that's  enough  for  the  present,  and  as  we  go  along  I'll 
teach  you  your  part,  how  you  are  to  behave,  and  he'll  be 
no  fool  that'll  find  you  out  after  ten  days  or  a  fortnight." 

My  change  of  costume  was  soon  effected,  and  my  wound, 
which  turned  out  to  be  a  trifling  one,  looked  after  ;  I  took 
a  farewell  look  at  the  old  walls,  and  stepped  after  my  com- 
panion, down  the  boreen. 

"If  we  make  haste,"  said  Darby,  " we'll  be  beyond 
Shannon  harbour  before  day ;  and  then,  when  we're  on 
the  canal,  we'll  easy  get  a  lift  in  some  of  the  boats  going 
to  Dublin." 

"  And  are  you  for  Dublin  ?  "  inquired  I,  eagerly. 

"  Yes.  I'm  to  be  there  on  the  twenty- fourth  of  this 
month,  please  God.  There's  a  meeting  of  the  friends  of 
Ireland  to  be  th<  n,  and  some  resolutions  will  be  taken 
about  what's  to  be  done.  There's  bad  work  going  on  in 
the  Parliament." 

"  Indeed,  Darby  !  what  is  it  ?  " 


60  TOM    BURKE   OP    "  OURS.** 

"  Oh  !  you  couldn't  understand  it  well ;  but  it's  just  as 
if  we  warn't  to  have  anything  to  say  to  governing  our- 
selves, only  to  be  made  slaves  of,  and  sent  abroad  to  fight 
for  the  English,  that  always  hate  us  and  abuse  us." 

"  And  are  we  going  to  bear  with  this  ?  "  cried  I,  pas- 
sionately. 

"  No,"  said  Darby,  laying  his  hand  on  my  shoulder — 
*'  no,  not  at  least  if  we  had  twenty  thousand  like  you,  my 
brave  boy.  But  you'll  hear  everything  yourself  soon ; 
and  now,  let  me  attend  to  your  education  a  bit,  for  we're 
not  out  of  the  enemy's  country." 

Darby  now  commenced  his  code  of  instruction  to  me, 
by  which  I  learned  that  I  was  to  perform  a  species  of  second 
to  him  in  all  minstrelsy — not  exactly  on  the  truest  prin- 
ciples of  harmony,  but  merely  alternating  with  him  in  the 
verses  of  his  songs.  These,  which  were  entirely  of  his 
own  composition,  were  all  to  be  learned,  and  orally,  too, 
for  Mister  M'Keown  was  too  jealous  of  his  copyright  ever 
to  commit  them  to  writing,  and  especially  charged  me 
never  to  repeat  any  lyric  in  the  same  neighbourhood. 

"It's  not  only  the  robbery  I  care  for,"  quoth  Darby, 
"  but  the  v  armints  desthroys  my  poethry  completely — 
sometimes  changing  the  words,  injuring  the  sentiments, 
and  even  altering  the  tune.  Now  it's  only  last  Tuesday  I 
heerd  '  Behave  politely,'  to  the  tune  of  *  Look  how  he 
sarved  me.'  " 

Besides  the  musical  portion  of  my  education,  there  was 
another  scarcely  less  difficult  to  be  attended  to  :  this  was, 
the  skilful  adaptation  of  our  melodies  not  only  to  the  pre- 
vailing tastes  of  the  company,  but  to  their  political  and 
party  bearings — Darby  supplying  me  with  various  hints 
how  1  was  to  discover  at  a  moment  the  peculiar  bias  of 
any  stranger's  politics. 

"  The  boys,"  said  Darby,  thereby  meaning  his  own 
party,  "  does  be  always  sly  and  careful,  and  begin  by  ask- 
ing  maybe  for  '  Do  you  incline  ?  '  or  '  Crows  in  the  barley,' 
or  tne  like.  Then  they  11  say,  '  Have  you  anything  new, 
Mister  M'Keown,  from  up  the  country  ?  '  '  Something 
sweet,  is  it  ?  '  says  I.  '  Ay,  or  sour,  av  ye  have  it,'  they'll 
say.  '  Maybe  ye'd  like  "Vinegar-hill,"  then,'  says  I.  Arrah, 
you'd  see  their  faces  redden  up  with  delight,  and  how 
they'll  beat  time  to  every  stroke  of  the  tune — it's  a  plea- 


MY  EDUCATION.  61 

cure  to  play  for  them.  But  the  yeoa  (meaning  the  yeo- 
men) will  call  out  mightily — *  Piper — holloa  there,  piper, 
I  say — rise  The  Boyne  water,  or  Croppies  lie  down.'  " 

"  And,  of  course,  you  refuse,  Darby?  " 

"  Refuse — refuse,  is  it — and  get  a  bayonet  in  me  ?  Devil 
a  bit,  my  dear.  I'll  play  it  up  with  all  the  spirit  I  can ; 
and  nod  my  head  to  the  tune,  and  beat  the  time  with  rny 
heel  and  toe  ;  and,  maybe,  if  I  see  need  of  it,  I  fasten  this 
to  the  end  of  the  chanter,  and  that  does  the  business 
entirely." 

Here  Darby  took  from  the  lining  of  his  hat  a  bunch  of 
orange  ribbon,  whose  faded  glories  showed  it  had  done  long 
and  active  service  in  the  cause  of  loyalty. 

I  confess  Darby's  influence  over  me  did  not  gain  any  ac- 
cession of  power  by  this  honest  avowal  of  his  political 
expediency ;  and  the  bold  assertion  of  a  nation's  wrongs, 
by  which  at  first  he  won  over  my  enthusiasm,  seemed  sadly 
at  variance  with  this  truckling  policy.  He  was  quick- 
sighted  enough  to  perceive  what  was  passing  in  my  mind, 
and  at  once  remarked, — • 

"  'Tis  a  hard  part  we're  obliged  to  play,  Master  Tom, 
but  one  comfort  we  have — it's  only  a  short  time  we'll 
need  it.  You  know  the  song  ?  " 

Here  he  broke  into  the  popular  tune  of  the  day : — 


"  *  And  the  French  will  come  again, 
Says  the  Shan  van  vaugh, 
And  they'll  bring  ten  thousand  men, 
Says  the  Shan  van  vaugh, 

And,  with  powder  and  with  ball, 

For  our  rights  we'll  loudly  call ; 

Don't  you  think  they'll  hear  us  then? 
Says  the  Shan  van  vaugh.' 


"  Ye  must  larn  that  air,  Master  Tom ;  and  see,  now, 
the  yeos  is  as  fond  of  it  as  the  boys,  only  remember  to  put 
their  own  words  to  it ;  and  devil  a  harm  in  that  same  when 
one's  not  in  earnest.  See,  now,  I  believe  it's  a  natural 
pleasure  for  an  Irishman  to  be  humbugging  somebody ;  and, 
faix,  when  there's  nobody  by,  he'd  rather  be  taking  a  rise 
out  of  himself  than  doing  nothing.  It's  the  way  that's 
in  us,  God  help  us  I  Sure  it's  that  same  makes  us  sich 


62  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OUKS." 

favourites  with  the  ladies,  and  gives  us  a  kind  of  native 
janius  for  coortin' : — 

"  "Tis  the  look  of  his  eye, 

And  a  way  he  can  sigh 
Makes  Paddy  a  darlin'  wherever  he  goes  J 

With  a  sugary  brogue, 

Ye'd  hear  the  rogue 
Cheat  the  girls  before  their  nose.' 

And  why  not  ? — Don't  they  like  to  be  chated,  when  they're 
sure  to  win  after  all — to  win  a  warm  heart  and  a  stout 
arm  to  fight  for  them  ?  " 

This  species  of  logic  I  give  as  a  specimen  of  Mister 
M'Keown's  power  of,  if  not  explaining  away  a  difficulty, 
at  least,  getting  out  of  all  reach  of  it — an  attribute  almost 
as  Irish  as  the  cause  it  was  employed  to  defend. 

As  we  journeyed  along,  Darby  maintained  a  strict 
reserve  as  to  the  event  which  had  required  his  presence 
in  Athlone,  nor  did  he  allude  to  the  Mayor  but  passingly, 
observing  that — 

"  He  didn't  know  how  it  happened  that  a  Dublin 
magistrate  should  have  come  up  to  these  parts,  though, 
to  be  sure,  he's  a  great  friend  of  the  Bight  Honourable." 

"  And  who  is  he  ?  "  asked  I. 

"  The  Eight  Honourable !  Don't  you  know,  then  ? 
Why,  I  didn't  think  there  was  a  child  in  the  county 
couldn't  tell  that.  Sure,  it's  Denis  Browne  himself." 

The  name  seemed  at  once  to  suggest  a  whole  flood 
of  recollections,  and  Darby  expatiated  for  hours  long 
on  the  terrible  power  of  a  man,  by  whose  hands  life 
and  death  were  distributed,  without  any  aid  from  judge 
or  jury — thus  opening  to  me  another  chapter  of  the  law- 
less tyranny  to  which  he  was  directing  my  attention,  and 
by  which  he  already  saw  my  mind  was  greatly  influenced. 

About  an  hour  after  daybreak  we  arrived  at  a  small 
tabin,  which  served  as  a  lock-house  on  the  canal  side. 
tt  needed  not  the  cold,  murky  sky,  nor  the  ceaseless 
pattering  of  the  rain,  to  make  this  place  look  more  com- 
fortless and  miserable  than  anything  I  had  ever  beheld. 
Around,  for  miles  in  extent,  the  country  was  onb  un- 
broken flat,  without  any  trace  of  wood,  or  even  a  single 
thorn  hedge,  to  relieve  the  eye.  Low,  marshy  meadows, 


MY    EDUCATION.  68 

where  the  rank  flaggers  and  reedy  grass  grew  tall  and 
luxuriant,  with  here  and  there  some  stray  patches  of 
tillage,  were  girt  round  by  vast  plains  of  bog,  cut  up 
into  every  variety  of  trench  and  pit.  The  cabin  itself, 
though  slated  and  built  of  stone,  was  in  bad  repair,  the 
roof  broken  in  many  places,  and  the  window  mended 
with  pieces  of  board,  and  even  straw.  As  we  came  close, 
Darby  remarked  that  there  was  no  smoke  from  the  chim- 
ney, and  that  the  door  was  fastened  on  the  outside. 

"  That  looks  bad,"  said  he,  as  he  stopped  short  about 
a  dozen  paces  from  the  hovel,  and  looked  steadily  at  it ; 
"  they've  taken  him  too." 

"  Who  is  it,  Darby  ?  "  said  I.     "  What  did  he  do  ?  " 

M'Keown  paid  no  attention  to  my  question,  but  un- 
fastening the  hasp  which  attached  the  door,  without  any 
padlock,  entered.  The  fire  was  yet  alive  on  the  hearth, 
and  a  small  stool,  drawn  close  to  it,  showed  where  some 
one  had  been  sitting ;  there  was  nothing  unusual  in  the 
appearance  of  the  cabin  ;  the  same  humble  furniture  aii^ 
cooking  utensils  lying  about,  as  were  seen  in  any  other. 
Darby,  however,  scrutinized  everything  most  carefully, 
looking  everywhere,  and  into  everything,  till,  at  last, 
reaching  his  hand  above  the  door,  he  pulled  out  from  the 
straw  of  the  thatch  a  small  piece  of  dirty  and  crumpled 
paper,  which  he  opened  with  the  greatest  care  and  atten- 
tion ;  and  then  flattening  it  out  with  his  hand,  began  to 
read  it  over  to  himself,  his  eye  flashing,  and  his  cheek 
growing  redder,  as  he  pored  over  it.  At  last  he  broke 
silence  with, — 

"  'Ti  s  myself  never  doubted  ye,  Tim,  my  boy.  Look 
at  that,  Master  Tom — but  sure,  you  wouldn't  understand 
it,  after  all.  The  yeos  took  him  up  last  night.  'Tis 
something  about  cutting  the  canal,  and  attacking  the  boat,, 
that's  again  him ;  and  he  left  that  there — that  bit  of 
paper — to  give  the  boys  courage  that  he  wouldn't  betray 
them.  That's  the  way  the  cause  will  prosper — if  we'll 
only  stick  by  each  other.  For  many  a  time,  when  they 
take  a  man  up,  they  spread  it  about  that  he's  turned  in- 
former against  the  rest,  and  then  the  others  gets  careless, 
and  don't  mind  whether  they're  taken  or  not." 

Darby  replaced  the  piece  of  paper  carefully,  and  then, 
listening  for  a  moment,  exclaimed, — : 


64  TOM  BTTEKB   OP   "  OURS." 

"  I  hear  the  boat  coming ;  let's  wait  for  it  oufc. 
side." 

While  he  employed  himself  in  getting  his  pipes  into 
readiness.  I  could  not  help  ruminating  on  the  strength  of 
loyalty  to  each  other  the  poor  people  observed  amid  every 
temptation  and  every  seduction ;  how,  in  the  midst  of 
such  misery  as  theirs,  neither  threats  nor  bribery  seemed 
to  influence  them,  was  a  strong  testimony  in  favour  of 
their  truth,  and  to  such  a  reasoner  as  I  was,  a  no  less 
cogent  argument  for  the  goodness  of  the  cause  that 
elicited  such  virtues. 

As  the  boat  came  alongside,  I  remarked  that  the  deck 
was  without  a  passenger ;  heaps  of  trunks  and  luggage 
littered  it  the  entire  way ;  but  the  severity  of  the  weather 
had  driven  every  one  under  cover,  except  the  steersman 
and  the  captain,  who,  both  of  them  wrapped  up  in  thick 
coats  of  frieze,  seemed  like  huge  bears  standing  on  their 
hind-quarters. 

"  How  are  you,  Darby  ?"  shouted  the  skipper ;  "  call  out 
that  lazy  rascal  to  open  the  lock." 

"  I  don't  think  he's  at  home,  sir,"  said  Darby,  as  inno- 
cently as  though  he  knew  nothing  of  the  reason  for  his 
absence. 

"  Not  at  home! — the  scoundrel,  where  can  he  be,  then  ? 
Come  youngster,"  cried  he,  addressing  me,  "  take  the  key 
there,  and  open  the  lock." 

Until  this  moment,  I  forgot  the  character  which  my 
dress  and  appearance  assigned  to  me ;  but  a  look  from  the 
piper  recalled  me  at  once  to  recollection  ;  and,  taking  up 
the  iron  key,  I  proceeded,  under  Darby's  instructions,  to  do 
what  I  was  desired,  while  Darby  and  the  captain  amused 
themselves  by  wondering  what  had  become  of  Tim,  and 
speculated  on  the  immediate  consequences  his  absence 
would  bring  down  on  him. 

"  Are  you  going  with  us,  Darby  ?  "  said  the  captain. 

"  Faix,  I  don't  know,  sir,"  said  he,  as  if  hesitating ; 
"  av  there  was  any  gentleman  that  liked  the  pipes * 

"  Yes,  yes,  come  along,  man,"  rejoined  the  skipper;  "is 
the  boy  with  you  ? — very  well — come  in,  youngster." 

We  were  soon  under  weigh  again ;  and  Darby,  having 
arranged  his  instrument  to  his  satisfaction,  commenced  a 
Tery  spirited  voluntary  to  announce  his  arrival.  In  an 


MY   EDUCATION.  65 

\nstant  the  cabin-door  opened,  and  a  red-faced,  coarse- 
looking  fellow,  in  uniform,  called  out, — 

*'  Holloa,  there !  is  that  a  piper  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Darby,  without  turning  his  face  round, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  he  put  a  question,  in  Irish,  to  the 
•Dipper,  who  answered  it  with  a  single  word. 

"  I  say,  piper,  come  down  here  !"  cried  the  yeoman,  for 
such  he  was — "  come  down  here,  and  let's  have  a  tune !  " 

"  I'm  coming,  sir,"  cried  Darby,  standing  up ;  and  hold- 
ing out  his  hand  to  me,  he  called  out,  "  Tom,  alannah,  lead 
me  down  stairs." 

I  looked  up  in  his  face,  and,  to  my  amazement,  perceived 
that  he  had  turned  up  the  white  of  his  eyes,  to  represent 
blindness,  and  was  groping  with  his  hand,  like  one  de- 
prived of  sight. 

As  any  hesitation  on  my  part  might  have  betrayed  him 
at  once,  I  took  his  hand,  and  led  him  along,  step  by  step, 
to  the  cabin-door.  I  had  barely  time  to  perceive  that  all 
the  passengers  were  habited  in  uniform,  when  one  of  them 
called  out — 

"  We  don't  want  the  young  fellow ;  let  him  go  back. 
Piper,  sit  down  here." 

The  motion  for  my  exclusion. was  passed  without  a 
negative,  and  I  closed  the  door,  and  sat  down  by  myself 
among  the  trunks  on  deck. 

For  the  remainder  of  the  day  I  saw  nothing  of  Darby ; 
the  shouts  of  laughter  and  clapping  of  hands  below  stairs 
occasionally  informing  me  how  successful  were  his  efforts 
to  amuse  his  company ;  while  I  had  abundant  time  to 
think  over  my  own  plans,  and  make  some  resolutions  for 
the  future. 


TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

KEVIN-STREET. 

How  this  long,  melancholy  day  wore  on  I  cannot  say ;  to 
me  it  was  as  gloomy  in  reverie  as  iu  its  own  dismal  aspect; 
the  very  sounds  of  mirth  that  issued  from  the  cabin 
beneath  grated  harshly  on  my  ear ;  and  the  merry  strains 
of  Darby's  pipes  and  the  clear  notes  of  his  rich  voice 
seemed  like  treachery  from  one  who  so  lately  had  spoken 
in  terms  of  heart-breathing  emotion  of  his  countrymen 
and  their  wrongs.  While,  therefore,  my  estimation  for  my 
companion  suffered,  my  sorrow  for  the  cause  that  de- 
manded such  sacrifices  deepened  at  every  moment,  and 
I  panted  with  eagerness  for  the  moment  when  I  might 
take  my  place  among  the  bold  defenders  of  my  country, 
and  openly  dare  our  oppressors  to  the  battle.  All  that 
M'Keown  had  told  me  ef  English  tyranny  and  oppression 
was  connected  in  my  mind  with  the  dreadful  scene  I  had 
so  lately  been  a  witness  to,  and  for  the  cause  of  which  I 
looked  no  further  than  an  act  of  simple  hospitality.  From 
this  I  wandered  on  to  the  thought  of  those  brave  allies 
who  had  deserted  their  career  of  continental  glory  to  share 
our  almost  hopeless  fortunes  here  ;  and  how  I  burned  to 
know  them,  and  learn  from  them  something  of  a  soldier's 
ardour. 

Night  had  fallen  when  the  fitful  flashing  of  lamps  be- 
tween the  tall  elms  that  lined  the  banks  announced  our 
approach  to  the  capital.  There  is  something  dreadfully 
depressing  in  the  aspect  of  a  large  city  to  the  poor,  un- 
friended youth,  who,  without  house  or  home,  is  starting 
upon  his  life's  journey.  The  stir,  the  movement,  the 
onward  tide  of  population,  intent  on  pleasure  or  business, 
are  things  in  which  he  has  no  part.  The  appearance  of 
wealth  humiliates,  while  the  sight  of  poverty  affrights 
him  ;  and,  while  every  one  is  animated  by  some  purpose, 
he  alone  seems  like  a  waif  thrown  on  the  shores  of  life. 


KEVIN    STREET.  67 

unclaimed,  unlocked  for.  Thus  did  I  feel  among  that 
busy  crowd  who  now  pressed  to  the  deck,  gathering  to- 
gether their  luggage,  and  preparing  for  departure.  Some 
home  awaited  each  of  these — some  hearth,  some  happy 
faces  to  greet  their  coming ;  but  I  had  none  of  these. 
This  was  a  sorrowful  thought ;  and  as  I  brooded  over  it, 
my  head  sank  upon  my  knees,  and  I  saw  nothing  of  what 
was  going  forward  about  me. 

"  Tom,"  whispered  a  low  voice  in  my  ear — "  Master 
Tom,  don't  delay,  my  dear ;  let  us  slip  out  here.  The 
soldiers  want  me  to  go  with  them  to  their  billets,  and  I 
have  promised ;  but  I  don't  mean  to  do  it." 

I  looked  up.  It  was  Darby,  buttoned  up  in  his  coat, 
his  pipes  unfastened  for  the  convenience  of  carriage. 

"  Slip  out  after  me  at  the  lock  here.  It's  so  dark,  we'll 
never  be  seen." 

Keeping  my  eye  on  him,  I  elbowed  my  way  through  the 
crowded  deck,  and  sprang  out  just  as  the  boat  began  her 
forward  movement. 

"  Here  we  are,  all  safe,"  said  Darby,  patting  me  on  the 
shoulder ;  "  and  now  that  I've  time  to  ask  you,  did  you 
get  your  dinner,  my  child  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  the  captain  brought  me  something  to  eat." 

"  Come  that's  right,  anyhow.  Glory  be  to  God  !  I  ate 
heartily  of  some  bacon  and  greens  ;  though  the  black- 
guards— bad  luck  to  them  for  the  same  ! — made  me  eat  an 
orange-lily  whole,  afraid  the  greens,  as  they  said,  might 
injure  me." 

"I  wonder,  Darby,"  said  I,  "that  you  haven't  more 
firmness  than  to  change  this  way  at  every  moment." 

"  Firmness,  is  it  ?  Faith,  it's  firm  enough  I'd  be,  and 
stiff  too,  if  I  didn't.  Sure  it's  the  only  way  now  at  all. 
Wait,  my  honey,  till  the  time  comes  round  for  ourselves, 
and,  faith,  you'll  never  accuse  me  of  coorting  their  favour ; 
but  now,  at  this  moment,  you  perceive,  we  must  do  it  to 
learn  their  plans.  What  do  you  think  I  got  to-night  ?  I 
learned  all  the  signs  the  yeos  have  when  they're  drinking 
together,  and  what  they  say  at  each  sign.  There's  a  way 
they  have  of  gripping  the  two  little  fingers  together  that 
I'll  not  forget  soon." 

For  some  time  we  walked  on  at  a  rapid  pace,  without 
exchanging  more  than  an  occasional  word.  At  last  we 


68  TOM   BUKKB   OP   "  OURS." 

entered  a  narrow,  ill-lighted  street,  which  led  from  the 
canal  harbour  to  one  of  the  larger  and  wider  thorough- 
fares. 

"  I  almost  forget  the  way  here,"  said  Darby,  stopping 
and  looking  about  him.  At  last,  unable  to  solve  the  diffi- 
culty, he  leaned  over  the  half-door  of  a  shop,  and  called 
out  to  a  man  within,  "  Can  you  tell  where  is  Kevin  Street  ?" 

"No.  39  ?  "  said  the  man,  after  looking  at  him  steadily 
for  a  moment. 

Darby  stroked  down  one  side  of  his  face  with  his  hand 
slowly,  a  gesture  immediately  imitated  by  the  other  man. 

"  What  do  you  know  ?  "  said  Darby. 

"  I  know  *  U.,"  replied  the  man. 

"And  what  more?" 

"Ikuow'K"' 

"  That  'ill  do,"  said  Darby,  shaking  hands  with  him 
cordially.  "  Now,  tell  me  the  way,  for  I  have  no  time  to 
spare." 

"  Begorra !  you're  in  as  great  haste  as  if  ye  were 
Darby  the  Blast  himself.  Ye '11  come  in  and  take  a  glass  ?  " 

Darby  only  laughed ;  and  again  excusing  himself,  he 
asked  the  way,  which  having  learned,  he  wished  his  newly- 
made  friend  good-night,  and  we  proceeded. 

"  They  know  you  well,  hereabouts,  by  name,  at  least," 
said  I,  when  we  had  walked  on  a  little. 

"  That  they  do,"  said  Darby,  proudly.  "From  Wexford 
to  Belfast  there's  few  doesn't  know  me ;  and  they'll  know 
more  of  me,  av  I'm  right,  before  I  die.  " 

This  he  spoke  with  more  of  determination  than  I  ever 
heard  him  use  previously. 

"  Here's  the  street,  now.  There's  the  lamp — that  one 
with  the  two  burners  there.  Faix,  we've  made  good  track 
since  morning,  anyhow." 

As  he  spoke  we  entered  a  narrow  passage,  through 
which  the  street-lamp  threw  a  dubious  half-light.  This 
conducted  us  to  a  small  paved  court,  crossing  which  we 
arrived  at  the  door  of  a  large  house.  Darby  knocked  in 
a  peculiar  manner,  and  the  door  was  speedly  opened  by  a 
man  who  whispered  something,  to  which  M'Keown  made 
answer  in  the  same  low  tone. 

**  I'm  glad  to  see  you  again,"  said  the  man,  louder,  as 
he  made  way  for  him  to  pass. 


KEVIN    STREET.  69 

I  pushed  forward  to  follow,  when  suddenly  a  strong  arm 
was  stretched  across  my  breast,  and  a  gruff  voice  asked, — 

"  Who  are  you  ?  " 

Darby  stepped  back,  and  said  something  in  his  ear ;  the 
other  replied,  sturdily,  in  the  negative.  And  although 
Darby,  as  it  appeared,  used  every  power  of  persuasion  he 
possessed,  the  man  was  inexorable.  At  last,  when  the 
temper  of  both  appeared  nearly  giving  way,  Darby  turned 
to  me,  and  said, — 

"  Wait  for  me  a  moment,  Tom,  where  you  are,  and  I'll 
come  for  you." 

So  saying,  he  disappeared,  and  the  door  closed  at  the 
same  time,  leaving  me  in  darkness  on  the  outside.  My 
patience  was  not  severely  taxed-^-ere  five  minutes  the  door 
opened,  and  Darby,  followed  by  another  person,  appeared. 

"Mr.  Burke,"  said  this  latter,  with  the  tone  of  voice 
that  at  once  bespoke  a  gentleman,  "  I  am  proud  to  know 
you."  He  grasped  my  hand  warmly  as  he  spoke,  and 
shook  it  affectionately.  "  I  esteem  it  an  honour  to  be 
your  sponsor  here.  Can  you  find  your  way  after  me  ? 
This  place  is  never  lighted;  but  I  trust  you'll  know  it 
better  ere  long." 

Muttering  some  words  of  acknowledgment,  I  followed 
my  unseen  acquaintance  along  the  dark  corridor. 

"  There's  a  step,  here,"  cried  he,  "  and  now  mind  the 
stairs." 

A  long  and  winding  flight  conducted  us  to  a  landing, 
where  a  candle  was  burning  in  a  tin  sconce.  Here  my 
conductor  turned  round. 

"  Your  Christian  name  is  Thomas,  I  believe,"  said  he ; 
at  the  same  moment,  as  the  light  fell  on  me,  he  started 
suddenly  back,  with  an  air  of  mingled  astonishment  and 

chagrin.  "  Why,  M'Keown,  you  told  me "  The  rest 

of  the  sentence  was  lost  in  a  whisper. 

*'  It's  a  disguise  I  made  him  wear,"  said  Darby;  "he'd 
no  chance  of  escaping  the  country  without  it." 

"  I'm  not  speaking  of  that,"  retorted  the  other,  angrily. 
"  It  is  his  age,  I  mean — he's  only  a  boy.  How  old  are  you, 
sir  ?  "  continued  he,  addressing  me,  but  with  far  less 
courtesy  than  before. 

"  Old  enough  to  live  for  my  country,  or  die  for  it  either, 
if  need  be,"  said  I,  haughtily. 


70  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

"  Bravo,  my  darling,"  cried  the  piper,  slapping  me  on 
the  shoulder  with  enthusiasm. 

"That's  not  exactly  my  question,"  said  the  stranger, 
smiling  goodnaturely  ;  "  I  want  to  know  your  age." 

"  I  was  fourteen  in  August,"  said  I. 

"  I  had  rather  yon  could  say  twenty,"  responded  he, 
thoughtfully.  "  This  is  a  sad  mistake  of  yours,  Darby. 
What  dependence  can  be  placed  on  a  child  like  this  ?  He's 
only  a  child  after  all.'7 

"  He's  a  child  I'll  go  bail  for  with  my  head,"  said 
Darby. 

"  Your  head  has  fully  as  much  on  it  as  it  is  fit  to  carry," 
said  the  other,  in  a  tone  of  rebuke.  "  Have  you  told  him 
anything  of  the  object  and  intentions  of  this  society  ?  But 
of  course  you  have  revealed  everything.  Well,  I'll  not  be  a 
party  to  this  business.  Young  gentleman,"  continued  he, 
in  a  voice  of  earnest  and  impressive  accent,  "  all  I  know 
of  you  is  the  few  particulars  this  man  has  stated  respect- 
ing your  unfriended  position,  and  the  cruelty  to  which  you 
fear  to  expose  yourself  in  trusting  to  the  guardianship  of 
Mr.  Basset.  If  these  reasons  have  induced  you,  from 
recklessness  and  indifference,  to  risk  your  life,  by  associa- 
tion with  men  who  are  actuated  by  high  and  noble  prin- 
ciples, then,  I  say,  you  shall  not  enter  here.  If,  however, 
aware  of  the  object  and  intentions  of  our  union,  you  are 
desirous  to  aid  us,  young  though  you  be,  I  shall  not  refuse 
you." 

"  That's  it,"  interrupted  Darby,  "  if  you  feel  in  your 
heart  a  friend  to  your  country " 

"  Silence  !  "  said  the  other,  harshly ;  u  let  him  decide 
for  himself." 

"  I  neither  know  your  intentions,  nor  even  guess  at 
them,"  said  I,  frankly.  "  My  destitution,  and  the  poor 
prospect  before  me,  make  me,  as  you  suppose,  indifferent 
to  what  I  embark  in,  provided  that  it  be  not  dishonourable. 
It  is  not  danger  that  will  deter  me,  that's  all  I  can  promise 
you." 

*'  I  see,"  said  the  stranger,  "  this  is  but  another  of  your 
pranks,  Mr.  M'Keown.  The  young  gentleman  was  to  be 
kidnapped  amongst  us.  One  thing,"  said  he,  turning  to 
me,  "  I  feel  assured  of,  that  anything  yon  have  witnessed 
here  is  safe  within  your  keeping,  and  now  we'll  not  press 


KEVIN    STREET.  71 

the  matter  further ;  in  a  few  days  you  can  hear,  and  make 
up  your  mind  on  all  these  things,  and,  as  you  are  not 
otherwise  provided,  let  us  make  you  our  guest  in  the  mean 
while." 

Without  giving  me  time  to  reply,  he  led  me  down  stairs 
again,  and,  unlocking  a  room  on  the  second  floor,  passed 
through  several  rooms,  until  he  reached  one  comfortably 
fitted  up  like  a  study. 

"  You  must  be  satisfied  with  a  sofa  here  for  to-night, 
but  to-morrow  I  will  make  you  more  comfortable." 

I  threw  my  eyes  over  the  well-filled  bookshelf  with 
delight,  and  was  preparing  to  thank  him  for  all  his  kind- 
ness to  me,  when  he  added, — 

"  I  must  leave  you  now,  but  we'll  meet  to-morrow ;  so 
good  night.  Come  along,  M'Keown,  we  shall  want  you 
presently." 

I  would  glady  have  detained  Darby  to  interrogate  him 
about  my  new  abode  and  its  inhabitants,  but  he  was 
obliged  to  obey,  and  I  heard  the  door  locked,  as  they 
closed  it,  on  the  outside  ;  and  shortly  after  the  sounds  of 
their  feet  died  away,  and  I  was  left  in  silence. 

Determined  to  con  over,  and,  if  possible,  explain  to  my- 
self the  mystery  of  my  position,  I  drew  my  sofa  towards 
the  fire  and  sat  down,  but  fatigue,  stronger  than  all  my 
curiosity,  had  the  mastery,  and  I  was  soon  sound  asleep. 


72  TOM   BURKE   OF    "  CUES.' 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HO.    39,    AND   ITS    FRKQDENTEHflt 

WHFN  my  eyes  opened  the  following  morning,  it  was  quite 
pardonable  in  me  if  1  believed  I  was  still  dreaming.  The 
room,  which  I  had  scarcely  time  to  look  at  the  previous 
evening,  now  appeared  handsomely,  almost  richly  fur- 
nished. Books  in  handsome  bindings  covered  the  shelves, 
prints  in  gilded  frames  occupied  the  walls,  and  a  large 
mirror  filled  the  space  above  the  chimney.  Various  little 
articles  of  taste,  in  bronze  and  marble,  were  scattered 
about,  and  a  silver  tea  equipage,  of  antique  pattern,  graced 
a  small  table  near  the  fire.  A  pair  of  splendidly  mounted 
pistols  hung  at  one  side  of  the  chimney  glass,  and  a  gor- 
geously gilt  sabre  occupied  the  other. 

While  I  took  a  patient  survey  of  all  these,  and  was  de- 
liberately examining  myself  as  to  how  and  when  I  had 
first  made  their  acquaintance,  a  voice  from  an  adjoining 
room,  the  door  of  which  lay  open,  exclaimed, — 

"  Sacristi !  quel  mauvais  temps  I"  and  then  broke  out 
into  a  little  French  air,  to  which,  after  a  minute,  the  singer 
appeared  to  move,  in  a  kind  of  dancing  measure.  "  Oui, 
c'est  fa/"  exclaimed  he,  in  rapture,  as  he  whirled  round 
in  a  pirouette,  overturning  a  dressing-table  and  its  con- 
tents with  a  tremendous  crash  upon  the  floor. 

I  started  up,  and  without  thinking  of  what  I  was  doing, 
rushed  in. 

"  Ha  I  bon  jour"  said  he,  gaily,  stretching  out  two 
fingers  of  a  hand  almost  concealed  beneath  a  mass  of 
rings ;  and  then  suddenly  changing  to  English,  which  he 
spoke  perfectly,  saving  with  a  foreign  accent,  "  How  did 
you  sleep  ?  I  suppose  the  tintamarrt  awoke  you." 

I  hastened  to  apologize  for  my  intrusion,  which  he 
stopped  at  once  by  asking  if  I  had  passed  a  comfortable 
night,  and  had  a  great  appetite  for  breakfast. 

Assuring  him  of  both  tacts,  I  retreated  into  the  sitting. 


NO.    89,    AND   ITS    FKEQUENTEES.  78 

room,  where  he  followed  me,  laughing  heartily  at  his  mis- 
hap, which  he  confessed  he  had  not  patience  to  remedy. 
"  And  what's  worse,"  added  he.  "  I  have  no  servant. 
But  here's  some  tea  and  coffee — let  us  chat  while  we 
eat." 

I  drew  over  my  chair  at  his  invitation,  and  found  my- 
self, before  half  an  hour  went  by,  acted  on  by  that  strange 
magnetism  which  certain  individuals  possess,  to  detail  to 
my  new  friend  the  principal  events  of  my  simple  story, 
down  to  the  very  moment  in  which  we  sat  opposite  to 
each  other.  He  listened  to  me  with  the  greatest  atten- 
tion, occasionally  interposing  a  questior ,  or  asking  an 
explanation  of  something  which  he  did  not  perfectly  com- 
prehend ;  and  when  I  concluded,  he  paused  for  some 
minutes,  and  then,  with  a  slight  laugh,  said, — 

"  You  don't  know  how  you  disappointed  the  people 
here.  Your  travelling  companion  had  given  them  to  un- 
derstand that  you  were  some  other  Burke,  whose  alliance 
they  have  been  long  desiring.  In  fact,  they  were  certain 
of  it ;  but,"  said  he,  starting  np  hastily,  "  it  is  far  better 
tis  it  is.  I  suspect,  my  young  friend,  the  way  in  which 
you  have  been  entrapped.  Don't  fear,  we  are  perfectly 
safe  here.  I  know  all  the  hackneyed  declamations  about 
wrongs  and  slavery  that  are  in  vogue,  and  I  know,  too, 
how  timidly  they  shrink  from  every  enterprise  by  which 
their  cause  might  be  honourably,  boldly  asserted.  1  am 
myself  another  victim  to  the  assumed  patriotism  of  this 
party.  I  came  over  here  two  years  since  to  take  the  com- 
mand. A  command — but  in  what  an  army  1  An  undis- 
ciplined rabble,  without  arms,  without  officers,  without 
even  clothes— their  only  notion  of  warfare  a  midnight 
murder,  or  a  reckless  and  indiscriminate  slaughter.  The 
result  could  not  be  doubtful — utter  defeat  and  discomfi- 
ture. My  countrymen,  disgusted  at  the  scenes  they 
witnessed,  and  ashamed  of  such  confrerie,  accepted  the 
amnesty,  and  returned  to  France.  I " 

Here  he  hesitated,  and  blushed  slightly ;  after  which  he 
resumed : — 

"  I  yielded  to  a  credulity  for  which  there  was  neither 
reason  nor  excuse.  I  remained.  Promises  were  made 
me,  oaths  were  sworn,  statements  were  produced  to  show 
how  complete  the  organization  of  the  insurgents  really 


74  TOM   BURKE   OF   "  OURS.*' 

was,  and  to  what  purpose  it  might  be  turned.  I  drew  up 
a  plan  of  a  campaign,  corresponded  with  the  different 
leaders,  encouraged  the  wavering,  restrained  the  head- 
strong, confirmed  the  hesitating,  and,  in  fact,  for  fourteen 
ironths  held  them  together,  not  only  against  their  oppo- 
nents, but  their  own  more  dangerous  disunion ;  and  the 
end  is — what  think  you  ?  I  only  learned  it  yesterday,  on 
my  return  from  an  excursion  in  the  west,  which  nearly 
cost  me  my  life.  I  was  concealed  in  a  cabin  in  woman's 
clothes " 

"  At  Mai  one's,  in  the  Glen?  " 

"  Yes;  how  did  you  know  that?  " 

"  I  was  there.  I  saw  you  captured,  and  witnessed 
your  escape." 

"  Diantre  I     How  near  it  was ! " 

He  paused  for  a  second,  and  I  took  the  opportunity  to 
recount  to  him  the  dreadful  issue  of  the  scene,  with  the 
burning  of  the  cabin.  He  grew  sickly  pale  as  I  re- 
lated the  circumstance:  then  flushing  as  quickly,  he 
exclaimed — 

"  We  must  look  to  this ;  these  people  must  be  taken 
care  of.  I'll  speak  to  Dalton — you  know  him  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  know  not  one  here." 

"  It  was  he  who  met  you  last  night ;  he  is  a  noble  fel- 
low. But  stay,  there's  a  knock  at  the  door." 

He  approached  the  fireplace,  and  taking  down  the 
pistols  which  hung  beside  it,  walked  slowly  towards  the 
door. 

"  "Tis  Darby,  sir — Darby  the  Blast,  coming  to  speak  a 
word  to  Mister  Burke,"  said  a  voice  from  without. 

The  door  was  opened  at  once,  and  Darby  entered. 
Making  a  deep  reverence  to  the  French  officer,  in  whose 
presence  he  seemed  by  no  means  at  his  ease,  Darby 
dropped  his  voice  to  its  most  humble  cadence,  and  said, — 

"  Might  I  be  so  bould  as  to  have  a  word  with  ye, 
Master  Tom  ?  " 

There  was  something  in  the  way  this  request  was  made 
that  seemed  to  imply  a  desire  for  secrecy — so,  at  least,  the 
Frenchman  understood  it— and  turning  hastily  round,  he 
•aid, — 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure ;  I'll  go  into  my  dressing-room;  there 
is  nothing  to  prevent  your  speaking  here." 


NO.   39,   AND   ITS   FBEQUENTEBS.  75 

No  sooner  was  the  door  closed,  than  Darby  drew  a  chair 
close  to  me,  and  bending  down  his  head,  whispered, — 

"  Don't  trust  him — not  from  here  to  that  window ; 
they're  going  to  do  it  without  him — Mahony  told  me  so 
himself:  but  my  name  was  not  drawn,  and  I'm  to  be  off 
to  Kildare  this  evening.  There's  a  meeting  of  the  boys 
at  the  Curragh,  and  I  want  you  to  come  with  me." 

The  state  of  doubt  and  uncertainty  which  had  harassed 
my  mind  for  the  last  twenty-four  hours  was  no  longer 
tolerable ;  so  I  boldly  asked  M'Keown  for  an  explanation 
as  to  the  people  in  whose  house  I  was,  their  objects  and 
plans,  and  how  far  I  was  myself  involved  in  their  designs. 

In  fewer  words  than  I  could  convey  it,  Darby  informed 
me  that  the  house  was  the  meeting-place  of  the  United 
Irishmen,  who  still  cherished  the  hope  of  reviving  the 
scenes  of  '98 ;  that,  conscious  the  failure  before  was  attri- 
butable to  their  having  taken  the  field  as  an  army  when 
they  should  have  merely  contented  themselves  with  secret 
and  indirect  attacks,  they  had  resolved  to  adopt  a  different 
tactique.  It  was,  in  fact,  determined  that  every  political 
opponent  to  their  party  should  be  marked — himself,  his 
family,  and  his  property ;  that  no  opportunity  was  to  be 
lost  of  injuring  him  or  his,  and,  if  need  be,  of  taking  away 
his  life ;  that  various  measures  were  to  be  propounded  to 
Parliament  by  their  friends,  to  the  maintenance  of  which 
threats  were  to  be  freely  used  to  the  Government  members ; 
and,  with  respect  to  the  great  measure  of  the  day — the 
Union — it  was  decided  that  on  the  night  of  the  division  a 
certain  number  of  people  should  occupy  the  gallery  above 
the  ministerial  benches,  armed  with  hand-grenades  and 
other  destructive  missiles ;  that,  on  a  signal  given,  these 
were  to  be  thrown  amongst  them,  scattering  death  and 
ruin  on  all  sides. 

"  It  will  be  seen,  then,"  said  Darby,  with  a  fiendish  grin, 
"  how  the  enemies  of  Ireland  pay  for  their  hatred  of  her. 
Maybe  they'll  vote  away  their  country  after  that !  " 

Whether  it  was  the  tone,  the  look,  or  the  words  that 
suddenly  awoke  me  from  my  dreamy  infatuation,  I  know 
not ;  but  coming  so  soon  after  the  Frenchmen's  detail  of 
the  barbarism  of  the  party,  a  thorough  disgust  seized  me, 
and  the  atrocity  of  this  wholesale  murder  lost  nothing 
of  its  blackness  from  being  linked  with  the  cause  of  liberty. 


Y6  TOM   BURKE   OP    "  OURS." 

With  ready  quickness  Darby  saw  what  my  impression 
Was,  and  hastily  remarked, — 

"  We'll  be  all  away  out  of  this,  Master  Tom,  you  know, 
before  that.  We'll  be  up  in  Kildare,  where  we'll  see  the 
boys  exercising  and  marching ;  that's  what  'ill  do  your 
heart  good  to  look  at.  But,  before  we  go,  you'll  have  to 
take  the  oath ;  for  I'm  answerable  for  you  all  this  time 
•with  my  own  head :  not  that  I  care  for  that  same,  but  others 
might  mistrust  ye." 

"  Holloa !  "  cried  the  Frenchman,  from  within,  "  I  hope 
you  have  finished  your  conference  there  ;  for  you  seem  to 
forget  there's  no  fire  in  this  room." 

*' Yes,  sir;  and  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons,"  sa'd  Darby, 
servilely:  "and  Master  Tom  only  wants  to  b.d  you  good- 
bye before  he  goes." 

"  Goes !  goes  where  ?  Are  you  so  soon  tired  of 
me  ?  "  said  he,  in  an  accent  of  most  winning  sweet- 
ness. 

"  He's  obliged  to  be  at  the  Curragh,  at  the  meeting 
there,"  said  Darby  answering  for  me. 

"  What  meeting  ?  I  never  heard  of  it." 

"  It's  a  review,  sir,  of  the  throops,  that's  to  be  by  moon- 
light." 

"  A  review !  "  said  the  Frenchman,  with  a  scornful  laugh. 
"  And  do  you  call  this  midnight  assembly  of  marauding 
savages  a  review  ?  " 

Darby's  face  grew  dark  with  rage,  and  for  a  second  I 
thought  he  would  have  sprung  on  his  assailant,  but  with  a 
fawning,  shrewd  smile  he  lisped  out, — 

"It's  what  they  call  it,  Captain;  sure  the  poor  boys 
knows  no  better." 

"  Are  you  going  to  this  review  f  "  said  the  Frenchman, 
with  an  ironical  pronunciation  of  the  word. 

"  I  scarce  know  whereto  go,  or  what  to  do,"  said  I,  in  a 
tone  of  despairing  sadness ;  "  any  certainty  would  be  pre- 
ferable to  the  doubts  that  harass  me." 

"  Stay  with  me,"  said  the  Frenchman,  interrupting  me, 
and  laying  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  ;  "  we  shall  be  com- 
panions to  each  other ;  your  friend  here  knows  I  can  teach 
you  many  things  that  may  be  useful  to  you  hereafter,  and 
perhaps,  with  all  humility  I  may  say,  your  stay  will  be  aa 
profitable  as  at  the  camp  yonder." 


NO.    39,    AND   ITS   FREQUENTERS  77 

u  I  should  not  like  to  desert  one  who  has  been  so  kind 
to  me  as  Darby,  and  if  he  wishes " 

Before  I  could  finish  my  sentence,  the  door  was  opened 
by  a  key  from  without,  and  Dalton,  as  he  was  called,  stood 
amongst  us. 

"  What,  Darby !  "  said  he,  in  a  voice  of  something  like 
emotion,  "  not  gone  yet !  you  know  I  forbid  you  coming 
up  here ;  I  suspected  what  you  would  be  at.  Come, 
lose  no  more  time,  we'll  take  care  of  Mr.  Burke  for 
you." 

Darby  hung  his  head  sorrowfully  and  left  the  room 
without  speaking,  followed  by  Dalton,  whose  voice  I  heard 
in  a  tone  of  anger,  as  he  descended  the  stairs. 

There  was  a  certain  openness,  an  easy  air  of  careless 
freedom  in  the  young  Frenchman,  which  made  me  feel  at 
home  in  his  company  almost  the  very  moment  of  our 
acquaintance ;  and  when  he  asked  some  questions  about 
myself  and  my  family,  I  hesitated  not  to  tell  him  my  entire 
history,  with  the  causes  which  had  first  brought  me  into 
Darby's  society,  and  led  me  to  imbibe  his  doctrines  and 
opinions.  He  paused  when  I  finished,  and,  after  reflecting 
for  some  minutes,  he  looked  me  gravely  in  the  face,  and 
said, — 

"  But  you  are  aware  of  the  place  you  are  now  in  ?  '* 

"No,"  said  I;  "further  than  the  fact  of  my  having 
enjoyed  a  capital  night's  rest  and  eaten  an  excellent  break- 
fast, I  know  nothing  about  it." 

A  hearty  burst  of  laughter  from  my  companion  followed 
this  very  candid  acknowledgment  on  my  part. 

"Then,  may  I  ask,  what  are  your  intentions  for  the 
future  ? — have  you  any  ?  " 

"  At  least  one  hundred,"  said  I,  smiling ;  "  but  every 
one  of  them  has  about  as  many  objections  against  it.  I 
should  like  much,  for  instance,  to  be  a  soldier — not  in  the 
English  service  though.  I  should  like  to  belong  to  an 
army  where  neither  birth  nor  fortune  can  make  nor  mar  a 
man's  career.  I  should  like,  too,  to  be  engaged  in  some 
great  war  of  liberty,  where  with  each  victory  we  gained 
the  voices  of  a  liberated  people  would  fall  in  blessings  upon 
us ;  and  then  I  should  like  to  raise  myself  to  high  command 
by  some  great  achievement.'* 

"And  then,"  said  the    Frenchman,  interrupting,  "to 


78  TOM   BURKE   OP   "  OURS." 

come  back  to  Ireland,  and  cut  off  the  head  of  this  terrible 
Monsieur  Basset.  N'est-ce  pas,  Tom  ?  " 

I  could  not  help  joining  in  his  laugh  against  myself, 
although  in  good  truth  I  had  felt  better  pleased  if  he  had 
taken  up  my  enthusiasm  in  a  different  mood. 

"  So  much  for  mere  dreaming,"  said  I,  with  half  a  sigh, 
as  our  laughter  subsided. 

"  Not  so,  "  said  he,  quickly — "not  so  ;  all  you  said  is 
far  more  attainable  than  you  suspect.  I  have  been  in 
such  a  service  myself — I  won  my  '  grade  '  as  officer  at  the 
point  of  my  sword,  when  scarcely  your  age ;  and  before  I 
was  fifteen  received  this." 

He  took  down  the  sword  that  hung  over  the  chimney  as 
he  said  these  words,  and  drawing  it  from  the  scabbard, 
pointed  to  the  inscription  which,  in  letters  of  gold, 
adorned  the  blade — "  Rivoli,"  "  Arcole  ;"  t-b-en  turning  the 
reverse,  I  read — "Au  Lieutenant  Charles  Gustavo  de 
Meudon,  3me  Cuirassiers." 

"  This,  then,  is  your  name  ?"  said  I,  repeating  it  half 
aloud. 

"  Yes,"  replied  he,  as  he  drew  himself  up,  and  seemed 
struggling  to  repress  a  feeling  of  pride  that  sent  the  blood 
rushing  to  his  cheek  and  brow. 

"How  I  should  like  to  be  you!"  was  the  wish  that 
burst  from  me  at  that  moment,  and  which  I  could  not 
help  uttering  in  words. 

"  Helfts,  non  /  "  said  the  Frenchman,  sorrowfully,  and 
turning  away  to  conceal  his  agitation.  "  I  have  broken 
with  fortune  many  a  day  since." 

The  tone  of  bitter  disappointment  in  which  these  words 
were  spoken  left  no  room  for  reply,  and  we  were  both 
silent. 

Charles — for  so  I  must  now  call  him  to  my  reader,  as  he 
compelled  me  to  do  so  with  himself — Charles  was  the  first 
to  speak. 

"  Not  many  months  ago  my  thoughts  were  very  like 
your  own ;  but  since  then  how  many  disappointments — 
how  many  reverses !" 

He  walked  hurriedly  up  and  down  the  room  as  he  said 
this ;  then,  stopping  suddenly  before  me,  laid  his  hand  on 
my  shoulder,  and,  with  a  voice  of  impressive  earn  tnesa, 
said, — 


NO.    39,    AND   ITS    FKEQUENTERS.  79 

"  Be  advised  by  me — join  not  with  these  people  ;  do  not 
embark  with  them  in  their  enterprise.  Their  enterprise !" 
repeated  he,  scornfully  :  "  they  have  none.  The  only  men 
of  action  here  are  they  with  whom  no  man  of  honour,  no 
soldier  could  associate — their  only  daring  some  deed  of 
rapine  and  murder.  No,  liberty  is  not  to  be  achieved  by 
such  hands  as  these ;  and  the  other — the  men  of  political 
wisdom,  who  prate  about  reform  and  the  people's  rights, 
who  would  gladly  see  such  as  me  adventure  in  the  cause 
they  do  not  care  themselves  to  advocate — they  are  all  false 
alike.  Give  me,"  cried  he,  with  energy,  and  stamping  his 
foot  upon  the  ground,  "give  me  a  demi-brigade  of  ours, 
some  squadrons  of  Milhaud's  cavalry,  and  '  troit  touches 
a  feu,'  to  open  the  way  before  us.  But  why  do  I  speak  of 
this  ?  Some  midnight  burning,  some  savage  murder, 
Borne  cowardly  attack  on  unarmed  and  defenceless  people 
— these  are  our  campaigns  here ;  and  shall  I  stain  this 
blade  in  such  a  conflict?  " 

"  Bat  you  will  go  back  to  France  ?  "  said  I,  endeavour- 
ing to  say  something  that  might  rally  him  from  his  gloom. 
"  Never,"  replied  he,  firmly — "  never.  I  alone,  of  all 
my  countrymen,  maintained,  that  to  leave  the  people  here 
at  such  a  crisis  was  unfair  and  unmanly.  I  alone  believed 
in  the  representations  that  were  made  of  extended  organi- 
zation, of  high  hopes,  and  ardent  expectations.  I  ac- 
cepted the  command  of  their  army — their  army !  what  a 
mockery  !  When  others  accepted  the  amnesty,  I  refused, 
and  lived  in  concealment,  my  life  hanging  upon  the  chance 
of  being  captured ;  for  fourteen  months  I  have  wandered 
from  county  to  county,  endeavouring  to  rally  the  spirit  I 
had  been  taught  to  think  only  needed  restraint  to  hold  back 
its  impetuous  daring.  I  have  spent  money  largely,  for  it 
was  largely  placed  at  my  disposal ;  I  have  distributed 
places  and  promises  ;  I  have  accepted  every  post  where 
danger  offered  ;  and  in  return,  I  hoped  that  the  hour  was 
approaching  when  we  should  test  the  courage  of  our 
enemies  by  such  an  outbreak  as  would  astonish  Europe — 
and  what  think  you  has  all  ended  in  ?  But  my  cheek 
burns  at  the  very  thought — an  intended  attack  on  the 
G-overment  Members  of  Parliament — an  act  of  base  assas- 
sination— a  cowardly  murder ;  and  for  what,  too  ?  to  pre- 
vent a  political  union  with  England  !  Have  they  forgot- 


80  TOM  BURKE   OP   "  OURS." 

ten  that  our  cause  was  total  rupture  !  independence !  open 
enmity  with  England  !  But,  c'estfini,  1  have  given  them 
my  last  resolve.  Yesterday  evening  I  told  the  delegates 
the  only  chance  that,  in  my  opinion,  existed  of  their  suc- 
cessfully asserting  their  own  independence.  I  gave  them 
the  letters  of  French  officers,  high  in  command  and  station, 
concurring  with  my  own  views  ;  and  I  have  pledged  my- 
self to  wiat  one  month  longer,  if  they  deem  my  plans 
worthy  of  acceptance,  to  consider  all  the  details,  and 
arrange  the  mode  of  proceeding.  If  they  refuse,  then  I 
leave  Ireland  for  ever  within  a  week.  In  America,  the 
cause  I  glory  in  is  still  triumphant ;  and  there,  no  prestige 
of  failure  sha'l  follow  me  to  damp  my  own  efforts,  nor  dis- 
courage the  high  hopes  of  such  as  trust  me.  But  you,  my 
poor  boy — and  how  have  I  forgotten  you  in  all  this  sad 
history — I  will  not  suffer  you  to  be  misled  by  false  represen- 
tations and  flattering  offers.  It  may  be  the  only  consola- 
tion I  shall  carry  with  me  from  this  land  of  anarchy  and 
misfortune — but  even  that  is  something — if  I  rescue  one 
untried  and  uncorrupted  heart  from  the  misery  of  such 
associates.  You  shall  be  a  soldier — be  my  companion  here 
while  I  stay !  I'll  arrange  everything  for  your  comfort; 
we'll  read  and  talk  together ;  and  I  will  endeavour  to 
repay  the  debt  I  owe  to  France,  by  sending  back  there 
one  better  than  myself  to  guard  her  eagles." 

The  tears  ran  fast  down  my  cheeks  as  I  heard  these 
words,  but  not  one  syllable  could  I  utter. 

"  Yon  do  not  like  my  plan ;  well " 

Before  he  could  conclude,  I  seized  his  hand  with  rapture 
within  both  of  mine,  and  pressed  it  to  my  lips. 

"  It  is  a  barg&in,  then,"  said  he,  gaily ;  "  and  now  let 
us  lose  no  more  time ;  let  us  remove  this  breakfast-table, 
and  begin  at  once." 

Another  table  was  soon  drawn  over  to  the  fire,  upon 
which  a  mass  of  books,  maps,  and  plates  were  heaped  by 
my  companion,  who  seemed  to  act  in  the  whole  affair 
with  all  the  delight  of  a  schoolboy  in  some  exploit  of 
amusement. 

"  You  are  aware,  Tom,  that  this  place  is  a  prison  to 
me,  and,  therefore,  I  am  not  altogether  disinterested  in 
this  proposal.  You,  however,  can  go  out  when  you  please; 
bufc  until  you  understand  the  precautions  necessary  to 


NO.    89,    AND    ITS    FREQUENTERS.  81 

prevent  you  from  being  traced  here,  it  is  better  not  to 
venture  into  the  city." 

"  I  have  no  wish  whatever  to  leave  this,"  said  I,  quickly, 
while  I  ranged  my  eye  with  delight  over  the  pile  of  books 
before  me,  and  thought  of  all  the  pleasure  I  was  to  draw 
from  their  perusal. 

"  You  must  tell  me  so  three  weeks  hence,  if  you  wish 
to  flatter  me,"  replied  Charles,  as  he  drew  over  his  chair, 
and  pointed  with  his  hand  to  another. 

It  needed  not  the  pleasing  and  attractive  power  ol 
my  teacher  to  make  my  study  the  most  captivating 
of  all  amusements.  Military  science,  even  in  its  gravest 
forms,  had  an  interest  for  me  such  as  no  other  pursuit 
could  equal.  In  its  vast  range  of  collateral  subjects,  it 
opened  an  inexhaustible  mine  to  stimulate  industry  and 
encourage  research.  The  great  wars  of  the  world  were 
the  great  episodes  in  history,  wherein  monarchs  and 
princes  were  nothing,  if  not  generals.  With  what  delight, 
then,  did  I  hang  over  the  pages  of  Carnot  and  Jomini ; 
with  what  an  anxious  heart  would  I  read  the  narrative 
of  a  siege,  where,  against  every  disadvantage  of  numbers 
and  munitions  of  war,  some  few  resisted  all  the  attacks  of 
the  adverse  forces,  with  no  other  protection  save  that  of 
consummate  skill.  With  what  enthusiasm  did  I  hear  of 
Charles  XII.,  of  Wallenstein,  of  the  Prince  Eugene ;  and 
how  oftentimes  did  I  ask  myself  in  secret,  why  had  the 
world  none  such  as  these  to  boast  of  now  ?  till  at  last  the 
name  of  Bonaparte  burst  from  my  companion's  lips,  as, 
with  a  torrent  of  long-restrained  devotion,  he  broke  forth 
into  an  eloquent  and  impassioned  account  of  the  great 
general  of  his  age. 

That  name  once  heard,  I  could  not  bear  to  think  or 
speak  of  any  other.  How  I  followed  him,  from  the  siege 
of  Toulon,  as  he  knelt  down  beside  the  gun  which  he 
pointed  with  his  own  hand,  to  the  glorious  battle-fields  of 
Italy,  and  heard,  from  one  who  listened  to  his  shout  of 
"  Suivez-moi  "  on  the  bridge  of  Lodi,  the  glorious  heroism 
of  that  day !  I  tracked  him  across  the  pathless  deserts  of 
the  East,  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  Pyramids,  whose 
fame  seems,  somehow,  to  have  revived  in  the  history  of 
that  great  man ;  and  then  I  listened  to  the  stories — and 
bow  numerous  were  they! — of  his  personal  daring,  the 


82  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS.** 

devotioii  and  love  men  bore  him,  the  magic  influence  of 
his  presence,  the  command  of  his  look ;  the  very  short 
and  broken  sentences  he  addressed  to  his  generals  wer« 
treasured  up  in  my  mind  and  repeated  over  and  over  to 
myself.  Charles  possessed  a  miniature  of  the  First  Consul, 
which  he  assured  me  was  strikingly  like  him,  and  for 
hours  long  I  could  sit  and  gaze  upon  that  cold,  unimpas- 
sioned  brow,  where  greatness  seemed  to  sit  enthroned. 
How  I  longed  to  look  upon  the  broad  and  massive  fore- 
head— the  deep-set,  searching  eye — the  mouth,  where 
sweetness  and  severity  seemed  tempered — and  that  finely 
rounded  chin,  that  gave  his  head  so  much  the  character  of 
antique  beauty.  His  image  filled  every  avenue  of  my 
brain  ;  his  eye  seemed  on  me  in  my  waking  moments,  and 
I  thought  I  heard  his  voice  in  my  dream.  Never  did 
lover  dwell  more  rapturously  on  the  memory  of  his  mis- 
tress than  did  my  boyish  thoughts  on  Bonaparte.  What 
would  I  not  have  done  to  serve  him  ?  What  would  I  not 
have  dared  to  win  one  word,  one  look  of  his,  in  praise? 
All  other  names  faded  away  before  his ;  the  halo  around 
him  paled  every  other  star ;  the  victories  I  had  thought  of 
before  with  admiration  I  now  only  regarded  as  trifling 
successes,  compared  with  the  overwhelming  torrent  of  his 
conquests.  Charles  saw  my  enthusiasm,  and  ministered 
to  it  with  eager  delight.  Every  trait  in  his  beloved  leader 
that  could  stimulate  admiration,  or  excite  affection,  he 
dwelt  on  with  all  the  fondness  of  a  Frenchman  for  his 
idol,  till  at  last  the  world  seemed  to  my  eyes  but  the 
theatre  of  his  greatness,  and  men  the  mere  instruments  of 
that  commanding  intellect  that  ruled  the  destinies  and 
disposed  of  the  fortunes  of  nations. 

In  this  way  days,  and  weeks,  and  even  months  rolled 
on,  for  Charles's  interest  in  my  studies  had  induced  him 
to  abandon  his  former  intention  of  departure,  and  he  now 
scarcely  took  any  part  in  the  proceedings  of  the  dele- 
gates, and  devoted  himself  almost  exclusively  to  me. 
During  the  day-time  we  never  left  the  house,  but  when 
night  fell  we  used  to  walk  forth — not  into  the  city,  but 
by  some  country  road,  often  along  the  canal-side — our 
conversation  on  the  only  topic  wherein  we  felt  interested^ 
and  these  rambles  still  live  within  my  memory  with  all 
the  vivid  freshness  of  yesterday;  and  whil».  my  heart 


NO.    39,    AND   ITS    FREQUENTERS.  83 

saddens  over  the  influeuce  they  shed  upon  my  after  life, 
I  cannot  help  the  train  of  pleasure  with  which,  even  yet, 
I  dwell  upon  their  recollection.  How  guarded  should  he 
be  who  converses  with  a  boy,  forgetting  with  what  power 
each  word  is  fraught,  by  the  mere  force  of  years ;  how  the 
flattery  of  equality  destroys  judgment,  and  saps  all  power 
of  discrimination ;  and,  more  than  all,  how  dangerous  it  is 
to  graft  upon  the  tender  sapling  the  ripe  fruits  of  expe- 
rience, not  knowing  how,  in  such,  they  may  grow  to  very 
rankness.  Few  are  there  who  cannot  look  back  to  their 
childhood  for  the  origin  of  opinions  that  have  had  their 
influence  over  all  their  latter  years  ;  and  when  these  have 
owed  their  birth  to  those  we  loved,  is  it  wonderful  that 
we  should  cling  to  faults  which,  seemed  hallowed  by 
friendship  ? 

Meanwhile,  I  was  becoming  a  man,  if  not  in  years,  at 
least  in  spirit  and  ambition.  The  pursuits  natural  to  my 
age  were  passed  over  for  the  studies  of  more  advanced 
years.  Military  history  had  imparted  to  me  a  soldier's 
valour,  and  I  could  take  no  pleasure  in  anything  save  as  it 
bore  upon  the  one  engrossing  topic  of  my  mind. 

Charles,  too,  seemed  to  feel  all  his  own  ambition  revived 
in  mine,  and  watched  with  pride  the  progress  I  was  making 
under  his  guidance. 


84  TOM   BURKE   OF    "  OUfiS.' 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THK  FBKNCRMAN'S  STORY. 

WHILE  my  life  slipped  thus  pleasantly  along,  the  hopes  of 
the  insurgent  party  fell  daily  and  hourly  lower  ;  disunion 
and  distrust  pervaded  all  their  councils,  jealousies  and 
suspicions  grew  up  among  their  leaders.  Many  of  those 
whose  credit  stood  highest  in  their  party  became  informers 
to  the  Government,  whose  persevering  activity  increased 
with  every  emergency ;  and  finally,  they  who  would  have 
adventured  everything  but  some  few  months  before,  grew 
lukewarm  and  indifferent.  A  dogged  carelessness  seemed 
to  have  succeeded  to  their  outbreak  of  enthusiasm,  and  they 
looked  on  at  the  execution  of  their  companions,  and  the 
wreck  of  their  party,  with  a  stupid  and  stolid  indifference. 

For  sometime  previous  the  delegates  met  at  rare  and  ir- 
regular intervals,  and  finally  ceased  to  assemble  altogether. 
The  bolder  portion  of  the  body,  disgusted  with  the  weak 
and  temporizing  views  of  the  others,  withdrew  first ;  and 
the  less  determined  formed  themselves  into  a  new  society, 
whose  object  was  merely  to  get  up  petitions  and  addresses 
unfavourable  to  the  great  project  of  the  Government — a 
legislative  union  with  England. 

From  the  turn  events  had  taken,  my  companion,  as  it 
may  be  supposed,  took  no  interest  in  their  proceedings. 
Affecting  to  think  that  all  was  not  lost — while  in  his  heart 
he  felt  bitterly  the  disappointment  of  his  hopes — a  settled 
melancholy,  unrelieved  even  by  those  flashes  of  buoyancy 
which  a  Frenchman  rarely  loses  in  any  misfortune,  now 
grew  upon  him.  His  cheek  grew  paler,  and  his  frame 
seemed  wasting  away,  while  his  impaired  strength  and 
tottering  step  betrayed  that  something  more  than  sorrow 
Irae  at  work  within  him.  Still  he  persevered  in  our  course 
of  study,  and,  notwithstanding  all  my  efforts  to  induce  him 
to  relax  in  his  labours,  his  desire  to  teach  me  grew  with 
every  day.  For  some  time,  a  short,  hacking  cough,  with 


THE  FRENCHMAN'S  STORV.  85 

pain  in  his  chest,  had  seized  on  him,  and,  although  it 
yielded  to  slight  remedies,  it  returned  again  and  again. 
Our  night  walks  were,  therefore,  obliged  to  be  discon- 
tinued, and  the  confinement  to  the  house  preyed  upon  his 
spirits,  and  shook  his  nerves.  Boy  as  I  was,  I  could  not 
look  upon  his  altered  face  and  attenuated  figure  without  a 
thrilling  fear  at  my  heart  lest  he  might  be  seriously  ill. 
Pie  perceived  my  anxiety  quickly,  and  endeavoured,  with 
many  a  cheering  speech,  to  assure  me  that  these  were 
attacks  to  which  he  had  been  long  accustomed,  and  which 
never  were  either  lasting  or  dangerous  ;  but  the  very 
hollow  accents  in  which  he  spoke  robbed  these  words  of 
all  their  comfort  to  me. 

The  winter,  which  had  been  unusually  long  and  severe, 
at  length  passed  away,  and  the  spring,  milder  and  more 
genial  than  is  customary  in  our  climate,  succeeded ;  the 
sunlight  came  slanting  down  through  the  narrow  court, 
and  fell  in  one  rich  yellow  patch  upon  the  floor.  Charles 
started,  his  dark  eyes,  hollow  and  sunk,  glowed  with 
unwonted  brightness,  and  his  haggard  and  hollow  cheek 
suddenly  flushed  with  a  crimson  glow. 

"  Mon  cher,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion, 
**  I  think  if  I  were  to  leave  this  I  might  recover." 

The  very  possibility  of  his  death,  until  that  moment, 
had  never  even  crossed  my  mind,  and  in  the  misery  of  the 
thought  I  burst  into  tears.  From  that  hour  the  impres- 
sion never  left  my  mind,  and  every  accent  of  his  low, 
soft  voice,  every  glance  of  his  mild,  dark  eye,  sank  into 
my  heart,  as  though  I  heard  and  saw  them  for  the  last 
time.  There  was  nothing  to  fear  now,  so  far  as  political 
causes  were  concerned,  in  our  removing  from  our  present 
abode,  and  it  was  arranged  between  us  that  we  should 
leave  town,  and  take  up  our  residence  in  the  county  of 
Wicklow.  There  was  a  small  cottage  at  the  opening  of 
Glenmah:i'e  which  my  companion  constantly  spoke  of ;  he 
had  passed  two  nights  there  already,  and  left  it  with  many 
a  resolve  to  return  and  enjoy  the  delightful  scenery  of 
the  neighbourhood. 

The  month  of  April  was  drawing  to  a  close,  when  one 
morning,  soon  after  sunrise,  we  left  Dublin.  A  heavy 
mist,  such  as  often  in  northern  climates  ushers  in  a  day  of 
unusual  brightness,  shrouded  every  object  from  our  view 

Vol.  28— (4)  - 


86  TOM   BURKE   OP    "  OURS." 

for  several  miles  of  the  way.  Charles  scarcely  spoke  ;  the 
increased  exertion  seemed  to  have  fatigued  and  exhausted 
him,  and  he  lay  back  in  the  carriage,  his  handkerchief 
pressed  to  his  mouth,  and  his  eyes  half  closed. 

We  had  passed  the  little  town  of  Bray,  and  entered 
upon  that  long  road  which  traverses  the  valley  between 
the  two  Sugar  Loaves,  when  suddenly  the  sun  burst  forth  ; 
the  lazy  mists  rolled  heavily  up  the  valley  and  along  the 
mountain  sides,  disclosing  as  they  went  patches  of  fertile 
richness,  or  dark  masses  of  frowning  rock.  Above  this, 
again,  the  purple  heath  appeared  glowing,  like  a  gorgeous 
amethyst,  as  the  red  sunlight  played  upon  it,  or  sparkled 
on  the  shining  granite  that  rose  through  the  luxuriant 
herbage.  Gradually  the  ravine  grew  narrower ;  the  moun- 
tains seemed  like  one  vast  chain,  severed  by  some  great 
convulsion ;  their  rugged  sides  appeared  to  mark  the  very 
junction ;  trunks  of  aged  and  mighty  trees  hung  threaten- 
ingly above  the  pass  ;  and  a  hollow  echoing  sound  arose, 
as  the  horses  trod  along  the  causeway.  It  was  a  spot  of 
wild  and  gloomy  grandeur,  and  as  I  gazed  on  it  intently, 
suddenly  I  felt  a  hand  upon  my  shoulder.  I  turned 
round  :  it  was  Charles's,  his  eyes  riveted  on  the  scene, 
his  lips  parted  with  eagerness  ;  he  spoke  at  length,  but  at 
first  his  voice  was  hoarse  and  low,  by  degrees  it  grew 
fuller  and  richer,  and  at  last  rolled  on,  in  all  its  wonted 
strength  and  roundness. 

"  See  there — look !  "  cried  he,  as  his  thin,  attenuated 
figure  pointed  to  the  pass.  "  What  a  ravine  to  defend  ! 
The  column,  with  two  pieces  of  artillery  in  the  road ;  the 
cavalry  to  form  behind,  where  you  see  that  open  space, 
and  advance  between  the  open  files  of  the  infantry ;  the 
tirailleurs  scattered  along  that  ridge  where  the  furze  is 
thickest,  or  down  there  among  those  masses  of  rock 
Sacristi  I — what  a  volume  of  fire  they'd  pour  down.  See 
how  the  blue  smoke  and  the  ring  of  the  musket  would 
mark  them  out  as  they  dotted  the  mountain  side,  and  yet 
were  unapproachable  to  the  enemy  ;  and  think  then  of  the 
rolling  thunder  of  the  eighteen-pounders  shaking  these  old 
mountains,  and  the  long,  clattering  crash  of  the  platoon 
following  after,  and  the  dark  chakos  towering  above  the 
smoke  ;  and  then  the  loud  '  Viva ! '  I  think  1  hear  it." 

His  cheek  became  purple  as  he  spoke,  his  veins  swollen 


THE  FBENGHMAN'S  STOKX.  87 

and  distended  ;  his  voice,  though  loud,  lost  nothing  of  its 
musical  cadence,  and  his  whole  look  betokened  excitement, 
almost  bordering  on  madness.  Suddenly  his  chest  heaved, 
a  tremendous  fit  of  coughing  seized  him,  and  he  fell  for- 
ward upon  my  shoulder.  I  lifted  him  up,  and  what  was 
my  horror  to  perceive  that  all  his  vest  and  cravat  were 
bathed  in  florid  blood,  which  issued  from  his  mouth.  He 
had  burst  a  blood-vessel  in  his  wild  transport  of  enthu- 
siasm, and  now  lay  pale,  cold,  and  senseless  in  my  arms. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  we  could  proceed  with  our 
journey,  for,  although  fortunately  the  bleeding  did  not 
continue,  fainting  followed  fainting  for  hours  after.  At 
length  we  were  enabled  to  set  out  again,  but  only  at  a 
walking  pace.  For  the  remainder  of  the  day  his  head 
rested  on  my  shoulder,  and  his  cold  hand  in  mine,  as  we 
slowly  traversed  the  long,  weary  miles  towards  Grlenmalure. 

The  night  was  falling  as  we  arrived  at  our  journey's  end. 
Here,  however,  every  kindness  and  attention  awaited  us  ; 
and  I  soon  had  the  happiness  of  seeing  my  poor  friend  in 
his  bed,  arid  sleeping  with  all  the  ease  and  tranquillity  of  a 
child. 

From  that  hour  every  other  thought  was  merged  in  my 
fears  for  him.  I  watched,  with  an  agonizing  intensity, 
every  change  of  his  malady.  I  scanned,  with  an  aching 
heart,  every  symptom  day  by  day.  How  many  times  has 
the  false  bloom  of  hectic  shed  happiness  over  me.  How 
often,  in  my  secret  walks,  have  I  offered  up  my  prayer  of 
thankfulness,  as  the  deceitful  glow  of  fever  coloured  his  wan 
cheek,  and  lent  a  more  than  natural  brilliancy  to  his  sunk 
and  filmy  eye.  The  world  to  me  was  all  nothing,  save  as 
it  influenced  him.  Every  cloud  that  moved  above,  each 
breeze  that  rustled,  I  thought  of  for  him  ;  and  when  I  slept 
his  image  was  still  before  me,  and  his  voice  seemed  to  call  me 
oftentimes  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  and  when  I  awoke 
and  saw  him  sleeping,  I  knew  not  which  was  the  reality 

His  debility  increased  rapidly ;  and  although  the  mild 
air  of  summer,  and  the  shelter  of  the  deep  valley  seemed 
to  have  relieved  his  cough,  his  weakness  grew  daily  more 
and  more.  His  character,  too,  seemed  to  have  undergone 
a  change  as  great  and  as  striking  as  that  in  his  health. 
The  high  and  chivalrous  ambition,  the  soldier-like  heroism, 
the  ardent  spirit  of  patriotism  that  at  first  marked  him, 


88  TOM  BURKE   OF   "  OURS.** 

had  given  way  to  a  low  and  tender  melancholy — an  almost 
womanish  tenderness — that  made  him  love  to  have  the 
little  children  of  the  cabin  near  him,  to  hear  their  innocent 
prattle,  and  watch  their  infant  gambols.  He  talked,  too, 
of  home,  of  the  old  chateau  in  Provence,  where  he  wa8 
born,  and  described  to  me  its  antiquated  terraces  and 
quaint,  old-fashioned  alleys,  where  as  a  boy  he  wandered 
with  his  sister. 

"  Pauvre  Marie !  "  said  he,  as  a  deep  blush  covered  his 
pale  cheek,  "  how  have  I  deserted  you  !  "  The  thought 
seemed  full  of  anguish  for  him,  and  for  the  remainder  of 
the  day  he  scarcely  spoke. 

Some  days  after  his  first  mention  of  his  sister,  we  were 
sitting  together  in  front  of  the  cabin,  enjoying  the  shade 
of  a  large  chestnut  tree,  which  already  had  put  forth  its 
early  leaves,  and  tempered,  if  it  did  not  exclude,  the  rays 
of  the  sun. 

"You  heard  me  speak  of  my  sister,"  said  he,  in  a  low 
and  broken  voice.  "  She  is  all  that  I  have  on  earth  near 
to  me.  We  were  brought  up  together  as  children  ;  learned 
the  same  plays  ;  had  the  same  masters ;  spent  not  one  hour 
in  the  long  day  asunder,  and  at  night  we  pressed  each 
other's  hands,  as  we  sunk  to  sleep.  She  was  to  me  all 
that  I  ever  dreamed  of  girlish  loveliness,  of  woman's  hap- 
piest nature  ;  and  I  was  her  ideal  of  boyish  daring,  of 
youthful  boldness,  and  manly  enterprise.  We  loved  each 
other — like  those  who  felt  they  had  no  need  of  other  affec- 
tion, save  such  as  sprang  from  our  cradles,  and  tracked  us 
on  through  life.  Hers  was  a  heart  that  seemed  made  for 
all  that  human  nature  can  taste  of  happiness ;  her  eye, 
her  lip,  her  blooming  cheek  knew  no  other  expression  than 
a  smile ;  her  very  step  was  buoyancy ;  her  laugh  rang 
through  your  heart  as  joy-bells  fill  the  air ;  and  yet !  and 
yet!  I  brought  that  heart  to  sorrow,  and  that  cheek  I 
made  pale,  and  hollow,  and  sunken  as  you  see  my  own. 
My  cursed  ambition,  that  rested  not  consent  with  my  own 
path  in  life,  threw  its  baleful  shadow  across  hers.  The 
story  is  a  short  one,  and  I  may  tell  it  to  you. 

"  When  I  left  Provence,  to  join  the  army  of  the  south, 
1  was  obliged  to  leave  Marie  under  the  care  of  an  old  and 
distant  relative,  who  resided  some  two  leagues  from,  us  on 
the  Loire.  The  chevalier  was  a  widower,  with  one  sou 


THE  FRENCHMAN'S  STORY.  89 

abont  my  own  age,  of  whom  I  knew  nothing,  save  that  he 
had  never  left  his  father's  house — had  been  educated  com- 
pletely at  home — and  had  obtained  the  reputation  of  being 
a  sombre,  retired  book-worm,  who  avoided  the  world,  and 
preferred  the  lonely  solitude  of  a  provincial  chateau  to  the 
gay  dissipations  of  Paris. 

"  My  only  fear  in  entrusting  my  poor  sister  in  such 
hands  was  the  dire  stupidity  of  the  sejour ;  but  as  I  bid 
her  good-bye,  I  said,  laughingly,  '  Prenez  garde,  Marie, 
don't  fall  in  love  with  Claude  de  Lauzan.' 

" '  Poor  Claude ! '  said  she,  bursting  into  a  fit  of 
laughter ;  '  what  a  sad  affair  that  would  be  for  him ! ' 
So  saying,  we  parted. 

"  I  made  the  campaign  of  Italy,  where,  as  I  have  per- 
haps too  often  told  you,  I  had  some  opportunities  of  dis- 
tinguishing myself,  and  was  promoted  to  a  squadron  on 
the  field  of  Arcole.  Great  as  my  boyish  exultation  was 
at  my  success,  I  believe  its  highest  pleasure  arose  from  the 
anticipation  of  Marie's  delight  when  she  received  my  letter 
with  the  news.  I  wrote  to  her  nearly  every  week,  and 
heard  from  her  as  frequently ;  at  the  time  I  did  not  mark, 
as  I  have  since  done,  the  altered  tone  of  her  letters  to  me. 
How  gradually  the  high,  ambitious  daring  that  animated 
her  early  answers  became  tamed  down  into  half-regretful 
fears  of  a  soldier's  career ;  her  sorrows  for  those  whose 
conquered  countries  were  laid  waste  by  fire  and  sword ; 
her  implied  censure  of  a  war,  whose  injustice  she  more 
than  hinted  at ;  and  lastly,  her  avowed  preference  for 
those  peaceful  paths  in  life  that  were  devoted  to  the 
happiness  of  one's  fellows,  and  the  worship  of  Him  who 
deserved  all  our  affection.  I  did  not  mark,  I  say,  this 
change ;  the  bustle  of  the  camp,  the  din  of  arms,  the  crash 
of  mounted  squadrons,  are  poor  aids  to  reflection  ;  and  I 
thought  of  Marie  but  as  I  left  her. 

"  It  was  after  a  few  months  of  absence  I  returned  to 
Provence,  the  croix  d'honneur  on  my  bosom,  the  snbre  I 
won  at  Lodi  by  my  side.  I  rushed  into  the  room  bursting 
with  impatience  to  clasp  my  sister  in  my  arms,  and  burn- 
ing to  tell  her  all  my  deeds  and  all  my  dangers ;  she  met 
me  with  her  old  affection,  but  how  altered  in  its  form ! 
her  gay  and  girlish  lightness,  the  very  soul  of  buoyant 
pleasure  was  gone ;  and  in  its  place  a  mild,  sad  smile 


JO  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS.** 

played  upon  her  lip,  and  a  deep,  thoughtful  look  was  in 
her  dark  brown  eye.  She  looked  not  less  beautiful ;  no, 
far  from  it,  her  loveliness  was  increased  tenfold ;  but  the 
disappointment  smote  heavily  on  my  heart.  I  looked 
about  me  like  one  seeking  for  some  explanation,  and  there 
stood  Claude — pale,  still,  and  motionless — before  me ;  the 
very  look  she  wore  reflected  in  his  calm  features,  her  very 
smile  was  on  his  lips.  In  an  instant  the  whole  truth 
flashed  across  me ;  she  loved  him.  There  are  thoughts 
which  rend  us,  as  lightning  does  the  rock,  opening  new 
surfaces  that  lay  hid  since  the  Creation,  and  tearing  our 
fast-knit  sympathies  asunder  like  the  rent  granite — mine 
was  such.  From  that  hour  I  hated  him  ;  the  very  virtues 
that  had,  under  happier  circumstances,  made  us  like 
brothers,  but  added  fuel  to  the  flame.  My  rival,  he  had 
robbed  me  of  my  sister — he  had  left  me  without  that  one 
great  prize  I  owned  on  earth ;  and  all  that  I  had  dared 
and  won  seemed  poor,  and  barren,  and  worthless,  since 
she  no  longer  valued  it. 

"  That  very  night  I  wrote  a  letter  to  the  First  Consul ; 
I  knew  the  ardent  desire  he  possessed  to  attach  to  Jose- 
phine's suite  such  members  of  the  old  aristocracy  as  could 
be  induced  to  join  it.  He  had  more  than  once  hinted 
to  me  that  the  fame  of  my  sister's  beauty  had  reached  the 
Tuileries  ;  that  with  such  pretensions  as  hers,  the  seclusion 
of  a  chateau  in  Provence  was  ill-suited  to  her.  I  stated 
at  once  my  wish  that  she  might  be  received  as  one  of  the 
ladies  of  the  Court,  avowing  my  intention  to  afford  her 
any  sum  that  might  be  deemed  suitable  to  maintain  her  in 
so  exalted  a  sphere.  This,  you  are  not  aware,  is  the  mode 
by  which  the  members  of  a  family  express  to  the  Consul 
that  they  surrender  all  right  and  guardianship  in  the  indi- 
vidual given,  tendering  to  him  full  power  to  dispose  of  her 
in  m  trriage,  exactly  as  though  he  were  her  own  father. 

"  Before  day  broke  my  letter  was  on  its  way  to  Paris  ; 
in  less  than  a  week  came  the  answer,  accepting  my  pro- 
posal in  the  most  flattering  terms,  and  commanding  me  to 
repair  to  the  Tuileries  with  my  sister,  and  take  command 
of  a  regiment  d'Slite  then  preparing  for  service. 

"  I  may  not  dwell  on  the  scene  that  followed.  The  very 
memory  of  it  is  too  much  for  my  weak  and  failing  spirits. 
Claude  flung  himself  at  my  feet,  and  confessed  his  love  , 


THE  FRENCHMAN'S  STORY.  91 

he  declared  his  willingness  to  submit  to  any  or  everything 
I  should  dictate  :  he  vrould  join  the  army  ;  he  would  volun- 
teer for  Egypt.  Poor  fellow !  his  trembling  accents  and  blood- 
less lip  comported  ill  with  the  heroism  of  his  words.  Only 
promise  that  in  the  end  Marie  should  be  his,  and  there  was  no 
danger  he  would  not  dare ;  no  course  in  life,  however  unsuited 
to  him,  he  would  not  follow  at  my  bidding.  I  know  not 
whether  my  heart  could  have  withstood  such  an  appeal  as 
this,  had  I  been  free  to  act ;  but  now  the  die  was  cast.  I 
handed  him  the  First  Consul's  letter ;  he  opened  it  with  a 
hand  trembling  like  palsy,  and  read  it  over ;  he  leaned  his 
head  against  the  chimney  when  he  finished,  and  gave  me 
back  the  letter  without  a  word.  I  could  not  bear  to  look 
on  him,  and  left  the  room. 

When  I  returned  he  was  gone.  We  left  the  chateau 
the  same  evening  for  Paris.  Marie  scarcely  spoke  one 
word  during  the  journey  ;  a  fatuous,  stupid  indifference  to 
everything  and  every  one  had  seized  her,  and  she  seemed 
perfectly  careless  whither  we  went.  This  gradually  yielded 
to  a  settled  melancholy,  which  never  left  her.  On  our 
arrival  in  Paris,  I  did  not  dare  to  present  myself  with  her 
at  the  Tuileries ;  so,  feigning  her  ill-health  as  an  excuse,  I 
remained  some  weeks  at  Versailles,  to  endeavour  by  affec- 
tion and  care  to  overcome  this  sad  feature  of  her  malady. 
It  was  about  six  weeks  after  this  that  I  read  in  the  Journal 
des  Debats  an  announcement  that  '  Claude  de  Lauz.an  had 
accepted  holy  orders,  and  was  appointed  cure  of  La  Fleche, 
in  Brittany.'  At  first  the  news  came  on  me  like  a  thunder- 
clap, but  after  a  while's  reflection  I  began  to  believe  it 
was,  perhaps,  the  very  best  thing  could  have  happened; 
and  under  this  view  of  the  matter  I  left  the  paper  in 
Marie's  way. 

"  I  was  right.  She  did  not  appear  the  next  morning 
at  breakfast  nor  the  entire  day  after.  The  following  day 
the  same ;  but  in  the  evening  came  a  few  lines  written, 
with  a  pencil,  saying  she  wished  to  see  me.  I  went — 
but  I  cannot  tell  you.  My  very  heart  is  bursting  as  I 
think  of  her,  as  she  sat  up  in  her  bed — her  long,  dark 
hair  falling  in  heavy  masses  over  her  shoulders,  and  her 
darker  eyes  flashing  with  a  brightness  that  seemed  like 
wandering  intellect.  She  fell  upon  my  neck  and  cried  ; 
her  tears  ran  down  my  cheek,  and  her  sobs  shook  me.  I 


92  TOM   BURKE   OP   "  OURS." 

know  not  what  I  said,  but  I  remember  that  she  agreed 
to  everything  I  had  arranged  for  her ;  she  even  smiled  a 
sickly  smile  as  I  spoke  of  what  an  ornament  she  would 
be  to  the  belle  cour,  and  we  parted. 

"  That  was  the  last  good-night  I  ever  wished  her.  The 
next  day  she  was  received  at  Court,  and  I  was  ordered  to 
Normandy,  thence  I  was  sent  to  Boulogne,  and  soon  after 
to  Ireland." 

"  But  you  have  written  to  her — you  have  heard  from 
her?" 

"  Alas !  no.  I  have  written  again  and  again,  but  either 
Bhe  has  never  received  my  letters,  or  she  will  not  answer 
them." 

The  tone  of  sorrow  he  concluded  in  left  no  room  for 
any  effort  at  consolation,  and  we  were  silent ;  at  last  he 
took  my  hand  in  his,  and  as  his  feverish  fingers  pressed 
it,  he  said, — 

"  'Tis  a  sad  thing  when  we  work  the  misery  of  those 
for  whose  happiness  we  would  have  shed  our  heart's 
blood." 


98 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE   CHURCHYARD. 

THE  excitement  caused  by  the  mere  narration  of  hii 
sister's  suffering  weighed  heavily  on  De  Meudon's  weak  and 
exhausted  frame  ;  his  thoughts  would  flow  in  no  other 
channel ;  his  reveries  were  of  home  and  long-past  years ; 
and  a  depression  far  greater  than  I  had  yet  witnessed 
settled  down  upon  his  jaded  spirits. 

"  Is  not  my  present  condition  like  a  just  retribution  on 
my  ambitious  folly  ?  "  was  his  continued  reflection :  and 
BO  he  felt  it.  With  a  Frenchman's  belief  in  destiny,  he 
regarded  the  failure  of  all  his  hopes,  and  the  ruin  of  the 
cause  he  had  embarked  in,  as  the  natural  and  inevitable 
consequences  of  his  own  ungenerous  conduct ;  and  even 
reproached  himself  for  carrying  his  evil  fortune  into  an 
enterprise  which,  without  him,  might  have  been  successful. 
These  gloomy  forebodings,  against  which  reason  was  of 
no  avail,  grew  hourly  upon  him,  and  visibly  influenced 
his  chances  of  recovery. 

It  was  a  sad  spectacle  to  look  on  one  who  possessed  so 
much  of  good — so  many  fair  and  attractive  qualities — • 
thus  wasting  away  without  a  single  consolation  he  could 
lay  to  his  bruised  and  wounded  spirit.  The  very  successes 
he  once  gloried  to  remember  now  only  added  bitterness  to 
his  fallen  state  ;  to  think  of  what  he  had  been,  and  look  on 
what  he  was,  was  his  heaviest  affliction,  and  he  fell  into 
deep,  brooding  melancholy,  in  which  he  scarcely  spoke, 
but  sat  looking  at  vacancy,  waiting  as  it  were  for  death. 

I  remember  it  well.  I  had  been  sitting  silently  by  his 
bedside  ;  for  hours  he  had  not  spoken,  but  an  occasional 
deep-drawn  sigh  showed  he  was  not  sleeping.  It  was 
tight,  and  all  in  the  little  household  were  at  rest ;  a  slight 
tustling  of  the  curtain  attracted  me,  and  I  felt  his  hand 
•teal  from  the  clothes  and  grasp  my  own. 

"I  have  been  thinking  of  you,  my  dear  boy,"  said  he, 


94  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS." 

"  and  what  is  to  become  of  you  when  Tin  gone.  There, 
do  not  sob ;  the  time  is  short  now,  and  I  begin  to  feel  it 
so  ;  for,  somehow,  as  we  approach  the  confines  of  eternity, 
our  mental  vision  grows  clearer  and  more  distinct — doubts 
that  have  long  puzzled  us  seem  doubts  no  longer.  Many 
of  our  highest  hopes  and  aspirations — the  day-dreams 
that  made  life  glorious — pass  before  our  eyes,  and  be- 
come the  poor  and  empty  pageants  of  the  hour.  Like  the 
traveller  who,  as  he  journeys  along,  sees  little  of  the  way, 
but  at  the  last  sits  down  upon  some  grassy  bank,  and 
gazes  over  the  long  line  of  road  ;  so,  as  the  close  of  life 
draws  near,  we  throw  a  backward  glance  upon  the  past. 
But  how  differently  does  all  seem  to  our  eyes — how  many 
of  those  we  envied  once  do  we  pity  now  ;  how  many  of 
those  who  appeared  low  and  humble,  whose  thoughts 
seemed  bowed  to  earth,  do  we  now  recognize  as  soaring 
aloft,  high  above  their  fellow-men,  like  creatures  of  some 
other  sphere !  "  He  paused ;  then  in  a  tone  of  greater 
earnestness  added,  "  You  must  not  join  these  people,  Tom. 
The  day  is  gone  by  when  anything  great  or  good  could 
have  been  accomplished.  The  horrors  of  civil  war  will 
ever  prevent  good  men  from  uniting  themselves  to  a 
cause  which  has  no  other  road  save  through  bloodshed  ; 
and  many  wise  ones,  who  weigh  well  the  dangers,  see  it 
hopeless.  France  is  your  country — there,  liberty  has  been 
won ;  there  lives  one  great  man,  whose  notice,  were  it 
but  passingly  bestowed,  is  fame.  If  life  were  spared  me, 
I  could  have  served  you  there — as  it  is,  I  can  do  some- 
thing." 

He  paused  for  a  while,  and  then  drawing  the  curtain 
gently  to  one  side,  said, — 

"  Can  it  be  moonlight,  it  is  so  very  bright  ?  " 
"  Yes,"  said  I ;  "  the  moon  is  at  the  full." 
He  sat  up  as  I  spoke,  and  looked  eagerly  out  through 
the  little  window. 

"  I  have  got  a  fancy — how  strange,  too,  it  is  one  I  have 
often  smiled  at  in  others,  but  I  feel  it  strongly  now — it  is 
to  choose  some  spot  where  I  shall  be  laid  when  I  am  dead. 
There  is  a  little  ruin  at  the  bottom  of  this  glen;  you 
must  remember  it  well.  If  I  mistake  not,  there  is  a  well 
close  beside  it.  I  remember  resting  there  one  hot  and 
gultry  day  in  July.  It  was  an  eventful  day,  too;  we  beat 


THE    CHUECHYARD.  95 

the  king's  troops,  and  took  seventy  prisoners  ;  and  I  rode 
from  Arklow  down  here  to  bring  up  some  ammunition 
that  we  had  secreted  in  one  of  the  lead-mines.  Well  I 
recollect  falling  asleep  beside  that  well,  and  having  such 
a  delightful  dream  of  home,  when  I  was  a  child,  and  of  a 
pony  which  Marie  used  to  ride  behind  me,  and  I  thought 
we  were  galloping  through  tbe  vineyard,  she  grasping  me 
round  the  waist,  half  laughing,  half  in  fear ;  and  when  I 
awoke  I  could  not  remember  where  I  was.  I  should  like 
to  see  that  old  spot  again,  and  I  feel  strong  enough  now 
to  try  it." 

I  endeavoured,  with  all  my  power  of  persuasion,  to 
prevent  his  attempting  to  walk  such  a  distance,  and  in  the 
night  air  too  ;  but  tbe  more  1  reasoned  against  it,  the  more 
bent  was  he  on  the  project,  and  at  last  I  was  obliged  to 
yield  a  reluctant  consent,  and  assist  him  to  rise  and 
dress. 

The  energy  which  animated  him  at  first  soon  sank 
under  the  effort,  and  before  we  had  gone  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  he  grew  faint  and  weary,  still  he  persevered,  and, 
Waning  heavily  on  my  arm,  he  tottered  along. 

"  If  I  make  no  better  progress,"  said  he,  smiling 
sadly,  "  there  will  be  no  need  to  assist  me  coming 
back." 

At  last  we  reached  the  ruin,  which,  like  many  of  the 
old  churches  in  Ireland,  was  a  mere  gable,  overgrown 
with  ivy,  and  pierced  with  a  single  window,  whose  rudely- 
formed  arch  betokened  great  antiquity.  Vestiges  of  the 
side  walls  remained  in  part,  but  the  inside  of  the  building 
was  filled  with  tombstones  and  grave-mounds,  selected  by 
the  people  as  being  a  place  of  more  than  ordinary  sanc- 
tity ;  among  these  the  rank  dock  weeds  and  nettles  grew 
luxuriantly,  and  the  tall  grass  lay  heavy  and  matted.  We 
sat  for  some  time  looking  on  this  sad  spot :  a  few  garlands 
were  withering  on  some  rude  crosses  of  stick,  to  mark 
the  latest  of  those  who  sought  their  rest  there,  and  upon 
these  my  companion's  eyes  were  bent  with  a  melancholy 
meaning. 

How  long  we  sat  there  in  silence  I  know  not,  but  a 
rustling  of  the  ivy  behind  me  was  the  first  thing  to  attract 
my  attention.  I  turned  quickly  round,  and  in  the  window 
of  the  ruin  beheld  the  head  of  a  man  bent  eagerly  in  the 


96  TOM    BURKE    OP    "  OURS." 

direction  we  were  in ;  the  moonlight  fell  upon  him  at  the 
moment,  and  I  saw  that  the  face  was  blackened. 

"Who's  that?"  I  called  aloud,  as  with  my  finger  I 
directed  De  Meudon  to  the  spot.  No  answer  was  re- 
turned, and  I  repeated  my  question  yet  louder,  but  still 
no  reply,  while  I  could  mark  that  the  head  was  turned 
slightly  round,  as  if  to  speak  with  some  one  without. 
The  noise  of  feet,  and  the  low  murmur  of  several  voices, 
now  came  from  the  side  of  the  ruin,  at  the  same  instant 
a  dozen  men,  their  faces  blackened,  and  wearing  a  white 
badge  on  their  hats,  stood  up  as  if  out  of  the  very  ground 
around  us. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  at  this  time  of  night?" 
said  a  hard  voice,  in  tones  that  boded  but  little  kindli- 
ness. 

"  We  are  as  free  to  walk  the  country,  when  we  like  it, 
as  you  are,  I  hope,"  was  my  answer. 

"  I  know  his  voice  well,"  said  another  of  the  crowd. 
"  I  told  you  it  was  them." 

"  Is  it  you  that  stop  at  Wild's,  in  the  glen  ?  "  said  the 
first  speaker. 

"  Yes,"  replied  I. 

"  And  is  it  to  get  share  of  what's  going  that  ye're 
come  to  join  us  now  ?  "  repeated  he,  in  a  tone  of  mockery. 

"  Be  easy,  Lanty — 'tis  the  French  officer  that  behaved 
so  stout  up  at  Ross :  it's  little  he  cares  for  money,  as 
myself  knows.  I  saw  him  throw  a  handful  of  goold 
among  the  boys  when  they  stopped  to  pillage,  and  bid 
them  do  their  work  first,  and  that  he'd  give  them  plenty 
after." 

"  Maybe  he'd  do  the  same  now,"  said  a  voice  from  the 
crowd,  in  a  tone  of  irony ;  and  the  words  were  received 
by  the  rest  with  a  roar  of  laughter. 

"  Stop  laughing,"  said  the  first  speaker,  in  a  voice  of 
command;  "  we've  small  time  for  joking."  As  he  spoke 
he  threw  himself  heavily  on  the  bank  beside  De  Meudon, 
and,  placing  his  hand  familiarly  on  his  arm,  said,  in  a  low, 
but  clear  voice,  "  The  boys  is  come  up  here  to-night  to 
draw  lots  for  three  men  to  settle  Barton,  that's  come  down 
here  yesterday,  and  stopping  at  the  barrack  there.  We 
knew  you  warn't  well  lately,  and  we  didn't  trouble  you ; 
but  now  that  you're  come  tip  of  yourself  among  us,  it's  only 


THE    CHURCHYARD.  97 

fair  and  reasonable  you'd  take  your  chance  with  the  rest, 
and  draw  your  lot  with  the  others." 

"  Arrah,  he's  too  weak — the  man  is  dying,"  said  a 
voice  near. 

"  And  if  he  is,"  said  the  other,  "  who  wants  his  help, 
sure,  isn't  it  to  keep  him  quiet,  and  not  bethray  us  ?  " 

"  The  devil  a  fear  of  that,"  said  the  former  speaker ; 
*'  he's  thrue  to  the  backbone ;  I  know  them  that  knows 
him  well." 

By  this  time  De  Meudon  had  risen  to  his  feet,  and 
stood  leaning  upon  a  tall  headstone  beside  him ;  his 
foraging  cap  fell  off  in  his  effort  to  stand,  and  his  long 
thin  hair  floated  in  masses  down  his  pale  cheeks  and  on 
his  shoulders ;  the  moon  was  full  upon  him,  and  what  a 
contrast  did  his  noble  features  present  to  the  ruffian  band 
that  sat  and  stood  around  him  1 

"  And  is  it  a  scheme  of  murder — of  cold,  cowardly 
assassination  you  have  dared  to  propose  to  me  ?  "  said  he, 
darting  a  look  of  fiery  indignation  on  him  who  seemed 
the  leader.  "  Is  it  thus  you  understand  my  presence  in 
your  country,  and  in  your  cause  ?  Think  ye  it  was  for 
this  that  I  left  the  glorious  army  of  France — that  I  quitted 
the  field  of  honourable  war  to  mix  with  such  as  you? 
Ay,  if  it  were  the  last  word  I  were  to  speak  on  earth,  I'd 
denounce  you,  wretches  that  stain  with  blood  and  mas- 
sacre the  sacred  cause  the  best  and  boldest  bleed  for." 

The  click  of  a  trigger  sounded  harshly  on  my  ear,  and 
my  blood  ran  .iold  with  horror ;  De  Meudon  heard  it  too, 
and  continued, — 

"  You  do  but  cheat  me  of  an  hour  or  two,  and  I  am 
ready." 

He  paused,  as  if  waiting  for  the  shot.  A  deadly  silence 
followed ;  it  lasted  for  some  minutes,  when  again  he  spoke, — 

"  I  came  here  to-night  not  knowing  of  your  inten- 
tions, not  expecting  you ;  I  came  here  to  choose  a  grave, 
where,  before  another  week  pass  over,  I  hoped  to  rest ;  if 
you  will  it  sooner,  I  shall  not  gainsay  you." 

Low  murmurs  ran  through  the  crowd,  and  something 
like  a  tone  of  pity  could  be  heard  mingling  through  the 
voices. 

"Let  him  go  home,  then,  in  God's  name!"  said  one  of 
the  number;  "that's  the  best  way." 


98  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OUES." 

"Ay,  take  him  home,"  said  another,  addressing  me. 
**Dan  Kelly's  a  hard  man  when  he's  roused." 

The  words  were  repeated  on  every  side,  and  I  led  De 
Meudou  forth  leaning  on  my  arm,  for  already,  the  excite- 
ment over,  a  stupid  indifference  crept  over  him,  and  he 
walked  on  by  my  side  without  speaking. 

I  confess  it  was  not  without  trepidation,  and  many  a 
backward  glance  towards  the  old  ruin,  that  I  turned 
homeward  to  our  cabin.  There  was  that  in  their  looks  at 
which  I  trembled  for  my  companion,  nor  do  I  yet  know 
why  they  spared  him  at  that  moment. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THE  day  which  followed  the  events  I  have  mentioned  was 
a  sad  one  to  me.  The  fatigue  and  the  excitement  together 
brought  on  fever  with  De  Meudon.  His  head  became 
attacked,  and  before  evening  his  faculties  began  to  wander. 
All  the  strange  events  of  his  chequered  liie  were  mixed 
up  in  his  disturbed  intellect,  and  he  talked  on  for  hours 
about  Italy,  and  Egypt,  the  Tuileries,  La  Vendee,  and 
Ireland,  without  ceasing.  The  entire  of  the  night  he 
never  slept,  and  the  next  day  the  symptoms  appeared 
still  more  aggravated.  The  features  of  his  insanity  were 
wilder  and  less  controllable.  He  lost  all  memory  of  me, 
and  sometimes  the  sight  of  me  at  his  bedside  threw  him 
into  most  terrific  paroxysms  of  passion ;  while  at  others, 
he  would  hold  my  hand  for  hours  together,  and  seem  to 
feel  my  presence  as  something  soothing.  His  frequent 
recurrence  to  the  scene  in  the  churchyard  showed  the  deep 
impression  it  had  made  upon  his  mind,  and  how  fatally 
it  had  influenced  the  worst  symptoms  of  his  malady. 

Thus  passed  two  days  and  nights.  On  the  third  morn- 
ing exhaustion  seemed  to  have  worn  him  into  a  false  cairn. 
His  wild,  staring  eye  had  become  heavier;  his  movements 
less  rapid ;  the  spot  of  colour  had  left  his  cheek :  the 


TOO    LATE.  99 

month  was  pinched  up  and  rigid ;  and  a  flatness  of  the 
muscles  of  the  face  betokened  complete  depression.  He 
spoke  seldom,  and  with  a  voice  hoarse  and  cavernous,  but 
no  longer  in  the  tone  of  wild  excitement  as  before.  I  sat 
by  his  bedside  still  and  in  silence,  my  own  sad  thoughts 
my  only  company.  As  it  grew  later,  the  sleepless  days 
and  nights  1  had  passed,  and  the  stillness  of  the  sick- 
room, overcame  me,  and  I  slept. 

I  awoke  with  a  start ;  some  dreamy  consciousness  of 
neglect  had  flashed  across  me,  and  I  sat  up.  I  peeped 
into  the  bed,  and  started  back  with  amazement.  I  looked 
again,  and  there  lay  De  Meudon,  on  the  outside  of  the 
clothes,  dressed  in  his  full  uniform — the  green  coat  and 
white  facing,  the  large  gold  epaulettes,  the  brilliant  crosses 
on  the  breast ;  his  plumed  chapeau  lay  at  one  side  of  him, 
and  his  sabre  at  the  other.  He  lay  still  and  motionless. 
I  held  the  candle  near  his  face,  and  could  mark  a  slight 
smile  that  curled  his  cold  lip,  and  gave  to  his  wan  and 
wasted  features  something  of  their  former  expression. 

"  Oui,  mon  cher,"  said  he,  in  a  weak  whisper,  as  he  took 
my  hand  and  kissed  it,  "c'est  bien  moi ;"  and  then  added, 
"  it  was  another  of  my  strange  fancies  to  put  on  these  once 
more  before  I  died ;  and,  when  I  found  you  sleeping,  I 
arose  and  did  so.  I  have  changed  something  since  I  wore 
this  last :  it  was  at  a  ball  at  Cambaceres." 

My  joy  at  hearing  him  speak  once  more,  with  full  pos- 
session of  his  reason,  was  damped  by  the  great  change  a 
few  hours  had  worked  in  his  appearance.  His  skin  was 
cold  and  clammy  ;  a  gluey  moisture  rested  on  his  cheek, 
and  his  teeth  were  dark  and  discoloured.  A  slimy  froth, 
too,  was  ever  rising  to  his  lips  as  he  spoke,  while  at  every 
respiration  his  chest  heaved  and  waved  like  a  stormy  sea. 

"  You  are  thirsty,  Charles,"  said  I,  stooping  over  him 
to  wet  his  lips. 

"No,"  said  he,  calmly,  "I  have  but  one  thing  which 
wants  relief;  it  is  here  " 

He  pressed  his  hand  to  his  heart  as  he  spoke,  while  such 
a  look  of  misery  as  crossed  his  features  I  never  beheld. 

"  Your  heart " 

"  Is  broken,"  said  he,  with  a  sigh. 

For  some  minutes  he  said  nothing,  then  whispered, — 

"  Take  my  pocket-book  from  beneath  my  pillow — yea, 


100  TOM   BURKE   OF   "  OURS." 

that's  it.  There  is  a  letter  you'll  give  my  sister — youTI 
promise  me  that;  well,  the  other  is  for  Lecharlier,  the  chef 
of  the  Polytechnique  at  Paris — that  is  for  you — you  must 
be  un  eleve  there.  There  are  some  five  or  six  thousand 
francs — it's  all  I  have  now — they  are  yours.  Marie  is 
already  provided  for — tell  her — but  no,  she  has  forgiven 
me  long  since — I  feel  it.  You'll  one,  day  win  your  grade 
— high  up  ;  yes,  you  must  do  so.  Perhaps  it  may  be  your 
fortune  to  speak  with  General  Bonaparte  ;  if  so,  I  beg  you 
say  to  him  that,  when  Charles  de  Meudon  was  dying — in 
exile — with  but  one  friend  left  of  all  the  world,  he  held  this 
portrait  to  his  lips,  and,  with  his  last  breath,  he  kissed  it." 

The  fervour  of  the  action  drew  the  blood  to  his  face  and 
temples,  which  as  suddenly  became  pale  again  ;  a  shivering 
ran  through  his  limbs — a  quick  heaving  of  his  bosom — a 
sigh — and  all  was  still.  He  was  dead. 

The  stunning  sense  of  deep  affliction  is  a  mercy  from  on 
high.  Weak  human  faculties,  long  strained  by  daily  com- 
muning with  grief,  would  fall  into  idiocy,  were  their 
acuteness  not  blunted,  and  their  perception  rendered  dull. 
It  is  for  memory  to  trace  back  through  the  mazes  of 
misery  the  object  of  our  sorrow,  as  the  widow  searches 
for  the  corpse  of  him  she  loved  amid  the  slain  upon  the 
battle-field. 

I  sat  benumbed  with  sorrow,  a  vague  desire  for  the 
breaking  day  my  only  thought.  Already  the  indistinct 
glimmerings  of  morning  were  visible,  when  I  heard  the 
sounds  of  men  marching  along  the  road  towards  the  house. 
I  could  mark,  by  the  clank  of  their  firelocks,  and  their 
regular  step,  that  they  were  soldiers.  They  halted  at  the 
door  of  the  cabin,  whence  a  loud  knocking  now  proceeded. 

"  Holloa,  there  !  "  said  a  voice,  whose  tones  seemed  to 
sink  into  my  very  heart — "  holloa,  Peter !  get  up  and  open 
the  door." 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  cried  the  old  man,  starting  up, 
and  groping  his  way  towards  the  door.  , 

The  sound  of  several  voices,  and  the  noise  of  approach- 
ing footsteps,  drowned  the  reply ;  and  the  same  instant 
the  door  of  the  little  room  in  which  I  sat  opened,  and  a 
sergeant  entered. 

"  Sorry  to  disturb  ye,  sir,"  said  he  civilly,  "  but  duty 
can't  be  avoided.  I  have  a  warrant  to  arrest  Captain  de 


TOO  LATE.  101 

Meudon,  a  French  officer  that  is  concealed  here.  May  I 
ask  where  is  he  ?  " 

I  pointed  to  the  bed. 

The  sergeant  approached,  and  by  the  half-light  conld 
just  perceive  the  glitter  of  the  uniform,  as  the  body  lay 
shaded  by  the  curtain. 

"  I  arrest  you,  sir,  in  the  King's  name,"  said  he. 
"  Holloa,  Kelly  !  this  is  your  prisoner,  isn't  he  ?  " 

A  head  appeared  at  the  door  as  he  spoke,  and,  as  the 
eyes  wandered  stealthily  round  the  chamber,  I  recognized, 
despite  the  change  of  colour,  the  wretch  who  led  the  party 
at  the  churchyard. 

"  Come  in,  d — n  ye,"  said  the  sergeant,  impatiently ; 
"  what  are  you  afraid  for  ?  Is  this  your  man  ?  Holloa  1 
sir,"  said  he,  shaking  the  corpse  by  the  shoulder. 

"  You  must  call  even  louder  yet,"  said  I,  while  some- 
thing like  the  fury  of  a  fiend  was  working  within  me. 

"  What !  "  said  the  sergeant,  snatching  up  the  light  and 
holding  it  within  the  bed.  He  started  back  in  horror  as  he 
did  so,  and  called  out,  "  He  is  dead !  " 

Kelly  sprang  forward  at  the  word,  and  seizing  the 
candle,  held  it  down  to  the  face  of  the  corpse ;  but  the 
flame  rose  as  steadily  before  those  cold  lips  as  though  the 
breath  of  life  had  never  warmed  them. 

"  I'll  get  the  reward,  anyhow,  sergeant,  won't  I  ?  "  said 
the  ruffian,  while  the  thirst  for  gain  added  fresh  expression 
to  his  savage  features. 

A  look  of  disgust  was  the  only  reply  he  met  with,  as 
the  sergeant  walked  into  the  outer  room,  and  whispered 
something  to  the  man  of  the  house.  At  the  same  instant 
the  galloping  of  a  horse  was  heard  on  the  causeway.  It 
came  nearer  and  nearer,  and  ceased  suddenly  at  the  door, 
as  a  deep  voice  shouted  out, — 

"  Well,  all  right,  I  hope,  sergeant.     Is  he  safe  ?  " 

A  whispered  reply,  and  a  low,  muttered  sound  of  two 
or  three  voices  followed,  and  Barton — the  same  man  I  had 
seen  at  the  fray  in  Malone's  cabin — entered  the  room.  He 
approached  the  bed,  and  drawing  back  the  curtains  rudely 
gazed  on  the  dead  man,  while  over  his  shoulder  peered 
the  demoniac  countenance  of  the  informer,  Kelly,  his 
savage  features  working  in  anxiety  lest  his  gains  should 
have  escaped  him. 


102  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS.** 

Barton's  eye  ranged  the  little  chamber  till  it  fell  on  me, 
as  I  sat  still  and  motionless  against  the  wall.  He  started 
slightly,  and  then  advancing  close,  fixed  his  piercing 
glance  upon  me. 

"  Ha  !  "  cried  he,  "  you  here !  Well,  that  is  more  than  I 
looked  for  this  morning.  I  have  a  short  score  to  settle  with 
you.  Sergeant,  here's  one  prisoner  for  you,  at  any  rate." 

"  Yes,"  said  Kelly,  springing  forward,  "  he  was  at  the 
churchyard  with  the  other ;  I'll  swear  to  that." 

"  I  think  we  can  do  without  your  valuable  aid  in  this 
business,"  said  Barton,  smiling  maliciously.  "  Come  along, 
young  gentleman,  we'll  try  and  finish  the  education  that 
has  begun  so  prosperously." 

My  eyes  involuntarily  turned  to  the  table  where  De 
Meudon's  pistols  were  lying.  The  utter  hopelessness  of 
such  a  contest  deterred  me  not.  1  sprang  towards  them ; 
but,  as  I  did  so,  the  strong  hand  of  Barton  was  on  my 
collar,  and,  with  a  hoarse  laugh,  he  threw  me  against  the 
wall,  as  he  called  out, — 

"  Folly,  boy,  mere  folly ;  you  are  quite  sure  of  the  rope 
without  that.  Here,  take  him  off." 

A  s  he  spoke,  two  soldiers  seized  me  on  either  side,  and, 
before  a  minute  elapsed,  pinioned  my  arms  behind  my 
back.  In  another  moment  the  men  fell  in,  the  order  was 
given  to  march,  and  I  was  led  away  between  the  files, 
Kelly  following  at  the  rear ;  while  Barton's  voice  might 
be  heard  issuing  from  the  cabin,  as  he  gave  his  orders  for 
the  burial  of  the  body,  and  the  removal  of  all  the  effects 
and  papers  to  the  barrack  at  Glencree. 

We  might  have  been  about  an  hour  on  the  road  when 
Barton  overtook  us.  He  rode  to  the  head  of  the  party, 
and,  handing  a  paper  to  the  sergeant,  muttered  some 
words — among  which  I  could  only  gather  the  phrase, 
"  Committed  to  Newgate ; "  then,  turning  round  in  hia 
saddle,  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  Kelly,  who,  like  a  beast  of 
prey,  continued  to  hang  upon  the  track  of  his  victim. 

"Well,  Dan,"  cried  he,  "yon  may  go  home  again 
now.  I  am  afraid  you've  gained  nothing  this  time  but 
character." 

"  Home ! "  muttered  the  wretch  in  a  voice  of  agony ; 
"  is  it  face  home  after  this  morning's  work  ?  " 

"  And  why  not,   man  ?      Take   my   word   for   it,  the 


TOO    LATE.  108 

neighbours  will  be  too  much  afraid  to  meddle  with  you 
now." 

"  Oh !  Mister  Barton — oh,  darling !  don't  send  me 
back  there,  for  the  love  of  Heaven !  Take  me  with  you," 
cried  the  miserable  wretch,  in  tones  of  heart-moving 
misery.  "  Oh,  young  gentleman,"  said  he,  turning  to- 
wards me,  and  catching  me  by  the  sleeve,  "  spake  a  word 
for  me  this  day." 

"  Don't  you  think  he  has  enough  of  troubles  of  his  own  to 
think  of,  Dan  ?  "  said  Barton,  with  a  tone  of  seeming  kind- 
liness. "  Go  back,  man — go  back  ;  there's  plenty  of  work 
before  you  in  this  very  county.  Don't  lay  your  hand  on  me, 
you  scoundrel ;  your  touch  would  pollute  a  hangman." 

The  man  fell  back  as  if  stunned  at  the  sound  of  these 
words ;  his  face  became  livid,  and  his  lips  white  as  snow. 
He  staggered  a  pace  or  two,  like  a  drunken  man,  and  then 
stood  stock-still,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  road. 

u  Quick  march  !  "  said  the  sergeant. 

The  soldiers  stepped  out  again ;  and  as  we  turned  the 
angle  of  the  road,  about  a  mile  farther,  I  beheld  Kelly  still 
standing  in  the  self-same  attitude  we  left  him.  Barton, 
after  some  order  to  the  sergeant,  soon  left  us,  and  we  con- 
tinued our  march  till  near  nine  o'clock,  when  the  party 
halted  to  breakfast.  They  pressed  me  to  eat  with  every 
kind  entreaty,  but  I  could  taste  nothing,  and  we  resumed 
our  road  after  half  an  hour ;  but,  the  day  becoming  oppres- 
sively hot,  it  was  deemed  better  to  defer  our  march  till 
near  sunset.  We  stopped,  then,  during  the  noon,  in  a 
shady  thicket  near  the  roadside,  where  the  men,  unbuck- 
ling their  knapsacks  and  loosening  their  stocks,  lay  down 
in  the  deep  grass,  either  chatting  together  or  smoking. 
The  sergeant  made  many  attempts  to  draw  me  into  con- 
versation, but  my  heart  was  too  full  of  its  own  sensations 
either  to  speak  or  listen;  so  he  abandoned  the  pursuit 
with  a  good  grace,  and  betook  himself  to  his  pipe  at  the 
foot  of  a  tree,  where,  after  its  last  whiff  escaped,  he  sank 
into  a  heavy  sleep. 

Such  of  the  party  as  were  not  disposed  for  sleep  gathered 
together  in  a  little  knot  on  a  small  patch  of  green  grass,  in  the 
middle  of  a  beech  clump,  where,  having  arranged  themselves 
with  as  much  comfort  as  the  place  permitted,  they  began 
chatting  away  over  their  life  and  its  adventures  pleasantly 


104  TOM  BURKE   OP    "  OURS." 

and  freely.  I  was  glad  to  seek  any  distraction  from  my 
own  gloomy  thoughts  in  listening  to  them,  as  I  lay  only  a 
few  yards  off;  but,  though  I  endeavoured  with  all  my 
might  to  attend  to,  and  take  interest  in,  their  converse, 
my  thoughts  always  turned  to  him  I  had  lost  for  ever — 
the  first,  the  only  friend  I  had  ever  known. 

All  care  for  myself  and  what  fortune  awaited  me  was 
merged  in  my  sorrow  for  him.  If  not  indifferent  to  my  fate, 
I  was  at  least  unmindful  of  it,  and  although  the  words  of 
those  near  me  fell  upon  my  ear,  I  neither  heard  nor  marked 
them.  From  this  dreamy  lethargy  I  was  at  last  suddenly 
aroused  by  the  hearty  bursts  of  laughter  that  broke  from 
the  party,  and  a  loud  clapping  of  hands  that  denoted  their 
applause  of  something,  or  somebody  then  before  them. 

"  I  say,  George,"  said  one  of  the  soldiers,  "  he's  a  queer 
*un,  too,  that  piper." 

"  Yes — he's  a  droll  chap,"  responded  the  other  solemnly, 
as  he  rolled  forth  a  long  curl  of  smoke  from  the  angle  of 
his  mouth. 

"  Can  you  play  '  Rule  Britannia,*  then  ?  "  asked  another 
of  the  men. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  a  voice  I  at  once  knew  to  be  no  other 
than  my  friend  Darby's — '*  no,  sir ;  but  av  the  *  Fox's 
Lament,'  or  '  Mary's  Dream,'  wasn't  uncongenial  to  your 
sentiments,  it  would  be  a  felicity  to  me  to  expatiate  upon 
the  same  before  yez." 

"Eh,  Bell,"  cried  a  rough  voice,  "does  that  beat  you  now?" 

"  No,"  said  another,  *'  not  a  bit ;  he  means  he'll  give  us 
something  Irish  instead;  he  don't  know  '  Rule  Britannia! '" 

"  Not  know  '  Rule  Britannia ! '  why,  where  the  devil 
were  you  ever  bred  or  born,  man — eh  ?  " 

"  Kerry,  sir,  the  kingdom  of  Kerry,  was  the  nativity  of 
my  father.  My  maternal  progenitrix  emanated  from  Clare. 
Maybe  you've  heard  the  adage — 

'  From  Kerry  his  father,  from  Clare  came  his  mother, 
He's  more  rogue  nor  fool  on  one  side  and  the  other. ' 
Not  but  that,  in  my  humble  individuality,  I  am  an  excep- 
tions illustration  of  the  proverbial  catastrophe." 

Another  shout  of  rude  laughter  from  his  audience  fol- 
lowed this  speech,  amid  the  uproar  of  which  Darby  began 
tuning  his  pipes,  as  if  perfectly  unaware  that  any  singu- 
larity on  his  part  had  called  forth  the  mirth. 


TOO   LATE.  105 

"  Well,  what  are  we  to  have,  old  fellow,  after  all  that 
confounded  squeaking  and  grunting?"  said  he  who  ap- 
peared the  chief  spokesman  of  the  party. 

"  'Tis  a  trifling  production  of  my  own  muse,  sir — a 
kind  of  biographical,  poetical,  and  categorical  dissertation 
of  the  delights,  devices,  and  daily  doings  of  your  obay- 
dient  servant,  and  ever  submissive  slave,  Darby  the  Blast." 

Though  it  was  evident  very  little  of  his  eloquent  an- 
nouncement was  comprehended  by  the  party,  their  laugh- 
ter was  not  less  ready,  and  a  general  chorus  proclaimed 
their  attention  to  the  song. 

Darby  accordingly  assumed  his  wonted  dignity  of  port, 
and  having  given  some  half  dozen  premonitory  flourishes, 
which  certainly  had  the  effect  of  astonishing  and  overaw- 
ing the  audience,  he  began,  to  the  air  of  "  The  Night  before 
Larry  was  stretched,"  the  following  ditty  : — 

DARBY  THE  BLAST. 

Oh  !  my  name  it  is  Darby  the  Blast, 

My  country  is  Ireland  all  over, 
My  religion  is  never  to  fast, 

But  live,  as  I  wander,  in  clover; 
To  make  fun  for  myself  every  day, 

The  ladies  to  plaze  when  I'm  able, 
The  boys  to  amuse,  as  I  play, 

And  make  the  jugs  dance  on  the  table. 

Oh  1  success  to  the  chanter,  my  dear. 

Your  eyes  on  each  side  you  may  cast, 

But  there  isn't  a  house  that  is  near  ye 
But  they're  glad  to  have  Darby  the  Blast, 

And  they'll  tell  ye  'tis  he  that  can  cheer  ye. 
On  !  'tis  he  can  put  life  in  a  feast, 

What  music  lies  under  his  knuckle, 
As  he  plays  "  Will  I  send  for  the  Priest  ?" 

Or  a  jig  they  call  "  Cover  the  Buckle." 
Oh  I  good  luck  to  the  chanter,  your  «*. 

But  give  me  an  audience  in  rags, 

They're  illigant  people  for  list'ning ; 
Tis  tl;e.v  that  can  humour  the  bags, 

A-  1  rise  a  fine  tune  at  a  christ'ning. 
Ti.ere  s  many  a  weddin'  I  make 

W  here  they  never  get  further  nor  sighing  ; 
Vud  when  1  perform  at  a  wake, 

The  corpse  looks  delighted  at  dying. 

Oh  I  success  to  the  chanter,  your  sow! 


106  TOM    BUKKE    OF    "  OURS." 

"  Eh  I  -what's  that  ?  "  cried  a  gruff  voice  ;  "  the  corpse 
does  what  ?  " 

"'Tis  a  rhetorical  amplification,  that  means,  he  would  if 
he  could,"  said  Darby,  stopping  to  explain. 

"  I  say,"  said  another,  "  that's  all  gammon  and  stuff;  a 
corpse  couldn't  know  what  was  doing — eh  !  old  fellow  ?  " 

"  'Tis  an  Irish  corpse  I  was  describin',"  said  Darby, 
proudly,  and  evidently,  while  sore  pushed  for  an  explana- 
tion, having  a  severe  struggle  to  keep  down  his  contempt 
for  the  company  that  needed  it. 

An  effort  I  made  at  this  moment  to  obtain  a  nearer  view 
of  the  party,  from  whom  I  was  slightly  separated  by  some 
low  brushwood,  brought  my  hand  in  contact  with  some- 
thing sharp  ;  I  started  and  looked  round,  and  to  my  aston- 
ishment  saw  a  clasp-knife,  such  as  gardeners  carry,  lying 
open  beside  me.  In  a  second  I  guessed  the  meaning  of 
this.  It  had  been  so  left  by  Darby,  to  give  me  an  oppor- 
tunity of  cutting  the  cords  that  bound  my  arms,  and  thus 
facilitating  my  escape.  His  presence  was  doubtless  there 
for  this  object,  and  all  the  entertaining  powers  he  dis- 
played only  brought  forth  to  occupy  the  soldiers'  attention 
while  I  effected  my  deliverance.  Regret  for  the  time  lost 
was  my  first  thought,  my  second,  more  profitable,  was  not 
to  waste  another  moment ;  so  kneeling  down  I  managed 
with  the  knife  to  cut  some  of  my  fastenings,  and  after 
some  little  struggle  freed  one  arm,  to  liberate  the  other 
was  the  work  of  a  second,  and  1  stood  up  untrammelled. 
What  was  to  be  done  next  ?  for  although  at  liberty  the 
soldiers  lay  about  me  on  every  side,  and  escape  seemed 
impossible ;  besides,  I  knew  not  where  to  turn,  where  to 
look  for  one  friendly  face,  nor  any  one  who  would  afford 
me  shelter.  Just  then  I  heard  Darby's  voice  raised  above 
its  former  pitch,  and  evidently  intended  to  be  heard  by  me. 

"  Sure  there's  Captain  Bubbleton,  of  the  45th  Eegiment, 
now  in  Dublin,  in  George's  Street  Barracks.  Ay,  in 
George's  Street  Barracks,"  said  he,  repeating  the  words 
as  if  to  impress  them  on  me.  "  'Tis  himself  could  tell 
you  what  I  say  is  thrue ;  and  if  you  wouldn't  put  confiden- 
tial authentification  on  the  infirmation  of  a  poor  leather- 
squeezing,  timber- tickling  crayture  like  myself,  sure  you'd 
have  reverential  obaydience  to  your  own  commissioned 
captain." 


TOO   LATE.  107 

'*  Well,  I  don't  think  much  of  that  song  of  yours,  any. 
how,  old  Blow,  or  Blast,  or  whatever  your  name  is.  Have 
you  nothing  about  the  service — eh  ?  '  The  British  Grena- 
diers,' give  us  that." 

"Yes;  'The  British  Grenadiers,'  that'g  the  tune!" 
cried  a  number  of  the  party  together. 

"  I  never  heard  them  play  but  onst,  sir,"  said  Darby, 
meekly,  "  and  they  were  in  sich  a  hurry  that  day,  I 
couldn't  pick  up  the  tune." 

"  A  hurry !  what  d'you  mean  ?  "  said  the  corporal. 

"  Yes,  sir,  'twas  the  day  but  one  after  the  French  landed ; 
and  the  British  Grenadiers  that  you  were  talking  of  was 
running  away  towards  Castlebar." 

"What's  that  you  say  there?"  cried  out  one  of  the 
soldiers,  in  a  voice  of  passion. 

"  'Tis  that  they  wor  running  away,  sir,"  replied  Darby, 
with  a  most  insulting  coolness  ;  "  and  small  blame  to  thim 
for  that  same,  av  they  wor  frightened." 

In  an  instant  the  party  sprang  to  their  legs,  while  a  per- 
fect shower  of  curses  fell  upon  the  luckless  piper,  and  fifty 
humane  proposals  to  smash  his  skull,  break  his  neck  and 
every  bone  in  his  body,  were  mooted  on  all  sides.  Mean- 
while, M'Keown  remonstrated  in  a  spirit  which  in  a  minute 
I  perceived  was  not  intended  to  appease  their  irritation ; 
on  the  contrary,  his  apologies  were  couched  in  very  dif- 
ferent guise,  being  rather  excuses  for  his  mishap  in  having 
started  a  disagreeable  topic,  than  any  regret  for  the  mode 
in  which  he  treated  it. 

"  And  sure,  sir,"  continued  he,  addressing  the  corporal, 
**  t wasn't  my  fault  av  they  tuck  to  their  heels ;  wouldn't 
any  one  run  for  his  life  av  he  had  the  opportunity  ?  " 

He  raised  his  voice  once  more  at  these  words  with  such 
significance  that  I  resolved  to  profit  by  the  counsel  if  the 
lucky  moment  should  offer.  I  had  not  long  to  wait — the 
insulting  manner  of  Darby,  still  more  than  his  words,  had 
provoked  them  beyond  endurance,  and  one  of  the  soldiers, 
drawing  his  bayonet,  drove  it  through  the  leather  bag  of 
his  pipes ;  a  shout  of  rage  from  the  piper,  and  a  knock- 
down blow  that  levelled  the  offender,  replied  to  the  insult. 
In  an  instant  the  whole  party  were  upon  him — their  very 
numbers,  however,  defeated  their  vengeance ;  as  I  could 
hear  from  the  tone  of  Darby's  voice,  who,  far  from  decliu- 


108  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS." 

ing  the  combat,  continued  to  throw  in  every  possible  incen* 
tive  to  battle,  as  he  struck  right  and  left  of  him.  "  Ah, 
you  got  that — well  done — 'tis  brave  you  are — ten  against 
one — devil  fear  you !  " 

The  scuffle  by  this  time  had  brought  the  sergeant  to  the 
spot,  who  in  vain  endeavoured  to  ascertain  the  cause  of 
the  tumult,  as  they  rolled  over  one  another  on  the  ground, 
while  caps,  belts,  and  fragments  of  bagpipes  were  scat- 
tered about  on  every  side.  The  uproar  had  now  reached 
its  height,  and  Darby's  yells  and  invectives  were  poured 
forth  with  true  native  fluency.  The  moment  seemed  pro- 
pitious to  me.  I  was  free — no  one  near :  the  hint  about 
Bubbleton  was  evidently  intended  for  my  guidance.  I 
crept  stealthily  a  few  yards  beneath  the  brushwood,  and 
emerged  safely  upon  the  road.  The  sounds  of  the  conflict, 
amid  which  Darby's  own  voice  rose  pre-eminent,  told  me 
that  all  were  too  busily  engaged  to  waste  a  thought  on  me. 
I  pressed  forward  at  my  best  pace  and  soon  reached  the 
crest  of  a  hill,  from  which  the  view  extended  for  miles  on 
every  side ;  my  eyes,  however,  were  bent  in  but  one  direc- 
tion— they  turned  westwards,  where  a  vast  plain  stretched 
away  towards  the  horizon,  its  varied  surface  presenting  all 
the  rich  and  cultivated  beauty  of  a  garden,  villas  and 
mansions  surrounded  with  large  parks,  waving  corn-fields 
and  orchards,  in  all  the  luxuriance  of  blossom.  Towards 
the  east  lay  the  sea,  the  coast  line  broken  into  jutting  pro- 
montories and  little  bays,  dotted  with  white  cottages,  with 
here  and  there  some  white-sailed  skiff,  scarce  moving  in 
the  calm  air.  But  amid  all  this  outspread  loveliness  of 
view,  my  attention  was  fixed  upon  a  dense  and  heavy 
cloud  that  seemed  balanced  in  the  bright  atmosphere  far 
away  in  the  distance ;  thither  my  eyes  turned,  and  on  that 
spot  was  my  gaze  riveted,  for  I  knew  that  beneath  that 
canopy  of  dull  smoke  lay  Dublin.  The  distant  murmur 
of  the  angry  voices  still  reached  me  as  I  stood.  I  turned 
one  backward  look,  the  road  was  lonely,  not  a  shadow 
moved  upon  it;  before  me  the  mountain  road  descended 
in  a  zigzag  course  till  it  reached  the  valley  ;  I  sprang  over 
the  low  wall  that  skirted  the  wayside,  and  with  my  eyes 
still  fixed  upon  the  dark  cloud  I  hurried  on-— my  heart 
grew  lighter  with  every  step,  and  when  at  length  I  reached 
the  shelter  of  a  pine  wood,  and  perceived  no  sign  of  being 


TOO   IiATB.  109 

pursued,  my  spirits  rose  to  such  a  pitch  of  excitement  that 
I  shouted  for  very  joy. 

For  above  an  hour  my  path  continued  within  the  shelter 
of  the  wood,  and  when  at  last  I  emerged,  it  was  not  without 
a  sense  of  sudden  fear  that  I  looked  back  upon  the  moun- 
tains which  frowned  above  me,  and  seemed  still  so  near. 
I  thought,  too,  I  could  mark  figures  on  the  road,  and 
imagined  I  could  see  them  moving  backwards  and  for- 
wards, like  persons  seeking  for  something,  and  then  I 
shuddered  to  think  that  they  too  might  be  at  that  very 
moment  looking  at  me ;  the  thought  added  fresh  speed  to 
my  flight,  and  for  some  miles  I  pressed  forward  without 
even  turning  once. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  as  I  drew  near  the  city; 
hungry  and  tired  as  I  was,  the  fear  of  being  overtaken  was 
uppermost  in  my  thoughts,  and  as  I  mingled  in  the  crowds 
that  strolled  along  the  roads  enjoying  the  delicious  calm- 
ness of  a  summer's  eve,  I  shrank  from  every  eye  like  some- 
thing guilty,  and  feared  that  every  glance  that  fell  on  me 
was  detection  itself. 

It  was  not  until  I  entered  the  city,  and  found  myself 
traversing  the  crowded  and  narrow  streets  that  formed 
the  outskirts,  that  I  felt  at  ease,  and  inquiring  my  way  to 
George's  Street  Barracks,  I  hurried  on,  regardless  of  the 
strange  sights  and  sounds  about.  At  that  hour,  the 
humbler  portion  of  the  population  was  all  astir ;  their 
daily  work  ended,  they  were  either  strolling  along  with 
their  families  for  an  evening  walk,  or  standing  in  groups 
around  the  numerous  ballad-singers,  who  delighted  their 
audience  with  diatribes  against  "the  Union,"  and  ridiculous 
attacks  on  the  ministry  of  the  day.  These,  however,  were 
not  always  unmolested,  for  as  I  passed  on,  I  saw  more 
than  one  errant  minstrel  seized  on  by  the  soldiery,  and 
hurried  off  to  the  guard-house  to  explain  some  uncivil 
or  equivocal  allusion  to  Lord  Castlereagh  or  Mr.  Cook, 
such  evidences  of  arbitrary  power  being  sure  to  elicit  a 
hearty  groan  or  shout  of  derision  from  the  mob,  which  in 
turn  was  replied  to  by  the  soldiers ;  these  scolding  matches 
gave  an  appearance  of  tumult  to  the  town,  which  on  some 
occasions  did  not  stop  short  at  mere  war  of  words. 

In  the  larger  and  better  streets  such  scenes  were  un- 
frequent — but  here  patrols  of  mounted  dragoons  or  police 


110  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

passed  from  time  to  time,  exchanging  as  they  went  certain 
signals  as  to  the  state  of  the  city ;  while  crowds  of  people 
thronged  the  pathways,  and  conversed  in  a  low  tone, 
which  broke  forth  now  and  then  into  a  savage  yell  as 
often  as  some  interference  on  the  part  of  the  military 
seemed  to  excite  their  angry  passions.  At  the  Castle  gates 
the  crowd  was  more  dense,  and  apparently  more  daring, 
requiring  all  the  efforts  of  the  dragoons  to  keep  them 
from  pressing  against  the  railings,  and  leave  a  space  for 
the  exit  of  carriages,  which  from  time  to  time  issued  from 
the  Castle  yard.  Few  of  these,  indeed,  went  forth  un- 
noticed. Some  watchful  eye  would  detect  the  occupant 
as  he  lay  back  to  escape  observation — his  name  would  be 
shouted  aloud,  as  an  inevitable  volley  of  hisses  and  execra- 
tions showered  upon  him  ;  and  in  this  way  were  received 
the  names  of  Mr.  Bingham,  Colonel  Loftus,  the  Right 
Hon.  Denis  Browne,  Isaac  Corry,  and  several  others  who 
happened  that  day  to  be  dining  with  the  Lord-Lieutenant, 
and  were  now  on  their  way  to  the  House  of  Commons. 

Nothing  struck  me  so  much  in  the  scene  as  the  real  or 
apparent  knowledge  possessed  by  the  mob  of  all  the  cir- 
cumstances of  each  individual's  personal  and  political 
career ;  and  thus  the  price  for  which  they  had  been  pur- 
chased— either  in  rank,  place,  or  pounds  sterling,  was 
cried  aloud  amid  shouts  of  derision  and  laughter,  or  the 
more  vindictive  yells  of  an  infuriated  populace. 

"  Ha !  Ben,  what  are  you  to  get  for  Baltinglass  ? 
Boroughs  is  up  in  the  market. — Well,  Dick,  you  won't 
take  the  place — nothing  but  hard  cash. — Don't  be  hiding, 
Jemmy. — Look  at  the  Prince  of  Orange,  boys. — A  groan 
for  the  Prince  of  Orange ! "  here  a  fearful  groan  from  the 
mob  echoed  through  the  streets.  "  There's  Luke  Fox—- 
ha !  stole  away !  "  here  followed  another  yell. 

With  difficulty  I  elbowed  my  way  through  the  densely- 
packed  crowd,  and  at  last  reached  the  corner  of  George's 
Street,  where  a  strong  police  force  was  stationed,  not  per- 
mitting the  passage  of  any  one  either  up  or  down  that 
great  thoroughfare.  Finding  it  impossible  to  penetrate 
by  this  way,  I  continued  along  Dame  Street,  where  I  found 
the  crowd  to  thicken  as  I  advanced.  Not  only  were  the 
pathways,  but  the  entire  streets  filled  with  people — 
through  whom  the  dragoons  could  with  difficulty  force  » 


TOO   LATE.  Ill 

passage  for  the  carriages,  which  continued  at  intervals  to 
pass  down.  Around  the  statue  of  King  William  the  mob 
was  in  its  greatest  force.  Not  merely  the  railings  around 
the  statue,  but  the  figure  itself  was  surmounted  by  per- 
sons, who,  taking  advantage  of  their  elevated  and  secure 
position,  hurled  their  abuse  upon  the  police  and  military 
with  double  bitterness.  These  sallies  of  invective  were 
always  accompanied  by  some  humorous  allusion,  which 
created  a  laugh  among  the  crowd  beneath,  to  which,  as 
the  objects  of  the  ridicule  were  by  no  means  insensible, 
the  usual  reply  was  by  charging  on  the  people,  and  a 
command  to  keep  back — a  difficult  precept  when  pressed 
forward  by  some  hundreds  behind  them.  As  I  made  my 
way  slowly  through  the  moving  mass,  I  could  see  that  a 
powerful  body  of  horse  patrolled  between  the  mob  and  the 
front  of  the  College,  the  space  before  which  and  the  iron 
railings  being  crammed  with  students  of  the  University, 
for  so  their  caps  and  gowns  bespoke  them.  Between 
this  party  and  the  others  a  constant  exchange  of  abuse 
and  insult  was  maintained,  which  even  occasionally 
came  to  blows  whenever  any  chance  opportunity  of 
coming  in  contact,  unobserved  by  the  soldiery,  presented 
itself. 

In  the  interval  between  these  rival  parties  each  mem- 
ber's carriage  was  obliged  to  pass,  and  here  each  candidate 
for  the  honours  of  one  and  the  execrations  of  the  other, 
met  his  bane  and  antidote. 

"Ha!  broken  beak,  there  you  go!  bad  luck  to  you  I 
Ha  !  old  vulture,  Flood !  " 

"  Three  cheers  for  Flood,  lads ! "  shouted  a  voice  from 
the  College,  and  in  the  loud  cry  the  yells  of  their  opponents 
were  silenced,  but  only  to  break  forth  the  next  moment 
into  further  license. 

"  Here  he  comes,  here  he  comes,"  said  the  mob ;  "  make 
way  there,  or  he'll  take  you  flying.  It's  himself  can  do 
it.  God  bless  your  honour,  and  may  you  never  want  a 
good  baste  under  ye !  " 

This  civil  speech  was  directed  to  a  smart,  handsome- 
looking  man  of  about  five-and-forty,  who  came  dashing 
along  on  a  roan  thoroughbred,  perfectly  careless  of  the 
crowd,  through  which  he  rode  with  a  smiling  face  and  a 
merry  look.  His  leathers  and  tops  were  all  in  perfect 


112  TOM   BURKE   OP    "  OURS.** 

jockey  style,  and  even  to  his  long-lashed  whip  he  was  in 
everything  a  sportsmanlike  figure. 

"  That's  George  Ponsonby,"  said  a  man  beside  me,  in 
answer  to  my  question  ;  "  and  I  suppose  you  know  who 
that  is  ?  " 

A  perfect  yell  from  the  crowd  drowned  my  reply,  and 
amid  the  mingled  curses  and  execrations  of  the  mass,  a 
dark-coloured  carriage  moved  slowly  on ;  the  coachman 
evidently  fearful  at  every  step  lest  his  horses  should  strike 
against  some  of  the  crowd,  and  thus  license  the  outbreak 
that  seemed  only  waiting  an  opportunity  to  burst  forth. 

"  Ha  !  Bladderchops,  Bloody  Jack,  are  you  there  ?  " 
shouted  the  savage  ringleaders,  as  they  pressed  up  to  the 
very  glasses  of  the  carriage,  and  stared  at  the  occupant. 

"  Who  is  it?  "  said  I,  again. 

"  John  Toler,  the  Attorney- General." 

Amid  deafening  cries  of  vengeance  against  him  the 
carriage  moved  on,  and  then  rose  the  wild  cheers  of  the 
College  men  to  welcome  their  partisan.  A  hurrah  from 
the  distant  end  of  Dame  Street  now  broke  on  the  ear, 
which,  taken  up  by  those  nearer,  swelled  into  a  regular 
thunder,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  dragoons  cried  out 
to  keep  back,  a  lane  was  formed  in  a  second,  and  down  it 
came  six  smoking  thoroughbreds  ;  the  postilions  in  white 
and  silver,  cutting  and  spurring  with  all  their  might.  Never 
did  I  hear  such  a  cheer  as  now  burst  forth  ;  a  yellow 
chariot,  its  panels  covered  with  emblazonry,  came  flying 
past ;  a  hand  waved  from  the  window  in  return  to  the 
salutation  of  the  crowd,  and  the  name  of  Tom  Conolly  of 
Castletown  rent  the  very  air ;  two  outriders  in  their  rich 
liveries  followed,  unable  to  keep  their  place  through  the 
thick  mass  that  wedged  in  after  the  retiring  equipage. 

Scarcely  had  the  last  echo  of  the  voices  subsided  when  a 
cheer  burst  from  the  opposite  side,  and  a  waving  of  caps 
and  handkerchiefs  proclaimed  that  some  redoubted  cham- 
pion of  Protestant  ascendancy  was  approaching.  The  crowd 
rocked  to  and  fro  ais  question  after  question  poured  in. 

"  Who  is  it,  who  is  coming  ?  ''  But  none  could  tell,  for 
as  yet  the  carriage,  whose  horses  were  heard  at  a  smart 
trot,  had  not  turned  the  corner  of  Grafton  Street ;  in  a  few 
moments  the  doubt  seemed  resolved,  for  scarcely  did  the 
korses  appear  in  sight  when  a  perfect  yell  rose  from  the 


TOO   LATE.  113 

crowd  and  drowned  the  cheers  of  their  opponents.  I  cannot 
convey  anything  like  the  outbreak  of  vindictive  passion 
that  seemed  to  convulse  the  mob,  as  a  splendidly-appointed 
carriage  drove  rapidly  past  and  made  towards  the  colonnade 
of  the  Parliament  House.  A  rush  of  the  people  was  made 
at  the  moment,  in  which,  as  in  a  wave,  I  was  borne  along 
in  spite  of  me.  The  dragoons,  with  drawn  sabres,  pressed 
down  upon  the  crowd,  and  a  scene  of  frightful  confusion 
followed;  many  were  sorely  wounded  by  the  soldiers,  some 
were  trampled  under  foot,  and  one  poor  wretch  in  an  effort 
to  recover  himself  from  stumbling,  was  supposed  to  be 
Btooping  for  a  stone,  and  cut  through  the  skull  without 
mercy.  He  lay  there  insensible  for  some  time,  but  at  last 
a  party  of  the  crowd,  braving  everything,  rushed  forward 
and  carried  him  away  to  an  hospital.  During  this,  I  had 
established  myself  on  the  top  of  a  lamp-post,  which  gave 
me  a  full  view,  not  only  of  all  the  proceedings  of  the  mob, 
but  of  the  different  arrivals  as  they  drew  up  at  the  door  of 
the  house.  The  carriage  whose  approach  was  signalized 
by  all  these  disasters,  had  now  reached  the  colonnade.  The 
steps  were  lowered,  and  a  young  man  of  the  very  hand- 
somest and  most  elegant  appearance  descended  slowly 
from  the  chariot ;  his  dress  was  in  the  height  of  the  reign- 
ing fashion,  but  withal  had  a  certain  negligence  that 
bespoke  one  who  less  paid  attention  to  toilette,  than  that 
his  costume  was  a  thing  of  course,  which  could  not  but  be, 
like  all  about  him,  in  the  most  perfect  taste.  In  his  hand 
he  held  a  white  handkerchief,  which,  as  he  carelessly  shook, 
the  perfume  floated  over  the  savage-looking,  half-naked 
crowd  around  ;  he  turned  to  give  some  directions  to  hit 
coachman,  and  at  the  same  moment  a  dead  cat  was  hurled 
by  some  one  in  the  crowd  and  struck  him  on  the  breast,  a 
cry  of  exultation  rending  the  very  air  in  welcome  of  this 
ruffian  act :  as  for  him,  he  slowly  moved  his  face  round 
towards  the  mob,  and  as  he  brushed  the  dirt  from  his  coat 
with  his  kerchief  he  bestowed  on  them  one  look,  so  full  of 
immeasurable  heartfelt  contempt,  that  they  actually  quailed 
beneath  it ;  the  cry  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  it  was 
only  as  he  turned  to  enter  the  House  that  they  recovered 
self-possession  enough  to  renew  their  insulting  shout.  1 
did  not  need  to  ask  the  name,  for  the  yell  of  bloody  Castle- 
reagh  shook  the  very  air. 


114  TOM    BUKKE    OF    "  OURS.** 

"  Make  way  there—make  way,  boys !  "  shouted  a  rough 
voice  from  the  crowd,  and  a  roar  of  laughter,  that  seemed 
to  burst  from  the  entire  street,  answered  the  command,  and 
the  same  instant  a  large  burly  figure  advanced  through  a 
lane  made  for  him  in  the  crowd,  mopping  his  great  bullet- 
head  with  a  bright  scarlet  handkerchief. 

"Long  life  to  you,  Mr.  Egan  !  "  shouted  one. 

"  Three  cheers  for  Bally  Egan,  boys !  "  cried  another, 
and  the  appeal  was  responded  to  at  once. 

"  Make  way,  you  blackguards,  make  way,  I  say,"  said 
Egan,  affecting  to  be  displeased  at  this  display  of  his 
popularity,  "  don't  yon  see  who's  coming  ?  "  Every  eye 
was  turned  at  once  towards  Daly's  club-house,  in  which 
direction  he  pointed ;  but  it  was  some  minutes  before  the 
dense  crowd  would  permit  anything  to  be  seen.  Suddenly, 
however,  a  cheer  arose  wilder  and  louder  than  any  1  had 
yet  heard ;  from  the  street  to  the  very  housetops  the  cry 
was  caught  up  and  repeated,  while  a  tumultuous  joy  seemed 
to  rock  the  crowd  as  they  moved  to  and  fro. 

At  this  moment  the  excitement  was  almost  maddening ; 
every  neck  was  strained  in  one  direction,  every  eye  pointed 
thither,  while  the  prolonged  cheering  was  sustained  with 
a  roar  as  deafening  as  the  sea  in  a  storm.  At  last  the 
crowd  were  forced  back,  and  I  saw  three  gentlemen  advanc- 
ing abreast :  the  two  outside  ones  were  holding  between 
them  the  weak  and  trembling  figure  of  an  old  and  broken 
man,  whose  emaciated  form  and  withered  face  presented 
the  very  extreme  of  lassitude  and  weakness;  his  loose 
coat  hung  awkwardly  on  his  spare  and  shrunken  form,  and 
he  moved  along  in  a  shuffling,  slipshod  fashion.  As  they 
mounted  the  steps  of  the  Parliament  House,  the  cheering 
grew  wilder  and  more  enthusiastic,  and  I  wondered  how 
he  who  was  evidently  the  object  could  seem  so  indifferent 
to  the  welcome  thus  given  him,  as  with  bent-down  head  he 
pressed  on,  neither  turning  right  nor  left.  With  seeming 
difficulty  he  was  assisted  up  the  steps,  when  he  slowly 
tarned  round,  and,  removing  his  hat,  saluted  the  crowd. 
The  motion  was  a  simple  one,  but  in  its  very  simplicity 
was  its  power.  The  broad  white  forehead,  across  which 
some  scanty  hair  floated  ;  the  eye  that  now  beamed  proudly 
forth,  was  turned  upon  them,  and  never  was  the  magic  of 
•  look  more  striking ;  for  a  second  all  was  hushed,  and 


TOO   LATE.  115 

then  a  very  thunder  of  applause  rolled  out,  and  the 
name  of  Henry  Grattan  burst  from  every  tongue.  Just 
then  one  of  the  mob,  exasperated  by  a  stroke  from  the 
flat  of  a  dragoon's  sabre,  had  caught  the  soldier  by  the 
foot  and  flung  him  from  his  saddle  to  the  ground  ;  his 
comrades  flew  to  his  rescue  at  once,  and  charged  the 
crowd,  which  fell  back  before  them.  The  College  men, 
taking  advantage  of  this,  sprang  forward  on  the  mob, 
armed  with  their  favourite  weapons,  their  hurdles  of  strong 
oak  ;  the  street  was  immediately  torn  up  behind,  and  a 
shower  of  paving-stones  poured  in  upon  the  luckless  mili- 
tary, now  completely  hemmed  in  between  both  parties. 
Yells  of  rage  and  defiance  rose  on  either  side,  and  the 
cheers  of  the  victors  and  cries  of  the  wounded  were  mixed 
in  mad  confusion.  My  lamp-post  was  no  longer  an 
enviable  position,  and  I  slipped  gently  down  towards  the 
ground  ;  in  doing  so,  however,  I  unfortunately  kicked  off 
a  soldier's  cap.  The  man  turned  on  me  at  once  and 
collared  me,  and  notwithstanding  all  my  excuses  insisted 
on  carrying  me  off  to  the  guard-house.  The  danger  of 
such  a  thing  at  once  struck  me,  and  I  resisted  manfully. 
The  mob  cheered  me,  at  which  the  soldier  only  became 
more  angry ;  and  ashamed,  too,  at  being  opposed  by  a 
mere  boy,  he  seized  me  rudely  by  the  throat.  My  blood 
rose  at  this,  and  I  struck  boldly  at  him;  my  fist  met  him  in 
the  face,  and  before  he  could  recover  himself  the  crowd 
were  upon  him.  Down  he  went,  while  a  rush  of  the  mob, 
escaping  from  the  dragoons,  flowed  over  his  body; 
at  the  same  moment  the  shout,  "  Guard,  turn  out !  "  was 
heard  from  the  angle  of  the  Bank,  and  the  clattering  of 
arms  and  the  roll  of  a  drum  followed.  A  cheer  from  the 
mob  seemed  to  accept  the  challenge,  and  every  hand  was 
employed  tearing  up  tb*  pavement  and  preparing  for  the 
fray.  Whether  by  my  own  self-appointment,  or  by  com- 
mon consent,  I  cannot  say,  but  I  at  once  took  the  leader- 
ship, and  having  formed  the  crowd  into  two  parties, 
directed  them,  if  hard  pressed,  to  retreat  either  by  College 
Street  or  Westmoreland  Street.  Thus  one  party  could 
assist  the  other  by  enfilading  the  attacking  force,  unless 
they  were  in  sufficient  strength  to  pursue  both  together. 
We  had  not  long  to  wait  the  order  of  battle.  The  soldier* 
were  formed  in  a  second,  and  the  word  was  given  to 


116  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS.** 

advance  at  a  charge.  The  same  instant  I  stepped  forward 
and  cried,  "  Fire !  "  Never  was  an  order  so  obeyed — a 
hundred  paving-stones  showered  down  on  the  wretched 
soldiers,  who  fell  here  and  there  in  the  ranks.  "  Again !  '  I 
shouted  to  my  second  battalion,  that  stood  waiting  for  the 
word,  and  down  came  another  hail-storm,  that  rattled  upon 
their  caps  and  muskets,  and  sent  many  a  stout  fellow  to 
the  rear.  A  wild  cheer  from  the  mob  proclaimed  the 
victory,  but  at  the  same  instant  a  rattling  of  ramrods,  and 
a  clank  of  firelocks,  was  heard  in  front ;  and  from  the  rear 
of  the  soldiers  a  company  marched  out  in  tchelon,  and 
drew  up  as  if  on  parade.  All  was  stilled,  not  a  man 
moved  in  the  crowd,  indeed  our  tactics  seemed  now  at  an 
end,  when  suddenly  the  word,  "  Make  ready — present !  " 
was  called  out,  and  the  same  instant  a  ringing  discharge 
of  musketry  tore  through  the  crowd.  Never  did  I 
witness  such  a  scene  as  followed.  All  attempts  to  retreat 
were  blocked  up  by  the  pressure  from  behind ;  and 
the  sight  of  the  wounded  who  fell  by  the  discharge  of 
the  soldiers,  seemed  to  paralyze  every  effort  of  the  mob. 
One  terrified  cry  rose  from  the  mass,  as  they  shrank  from 
the  muskets.  Again  the  ramrods  were  heard  clinking  in 
the  barrels.  I  saw  there  was  but  one  moment,  and  cried 
out,  "  Courage,  lads,  and  down  upon  them ! "  and  with  that 
I  dashed  madly  forward,  followed  by  the  mob,  that,  like  a 
mighry  mass,  now  rolled  heavily  after  me.  The  soldiers 
fell  back  as  we  came  on ;  their  bayonets  were  brought  to 
the  charge,  the  word  "  Fire  low  !  "  was  passed  along  the 
line,  and  a  bright  sheet  of  flame  flashed  forth,  and  was 
answered  by  a  scream  of  anguish  that  drowned  the  crash 
of  the  fire.  In  the  rush  backwards  I  was  thrown  on  the 
ground,  and  at  first  believed  I  had  been  shot,  but  I  soon 
perceived  I  was  safe,  and  sprang  to  my  legs  ;  but  the  same 
moment  a  blow  on  the  head  from  the  butt-end  of  a  musket 
smote  me  to  the  earth,  and  I  neither  saw  nor  heard  of  any- 
thing very  clearly  afterwards.  I  had,  indeed,  a  faint, 
dreamy  recollection  of  being  danced  upon  and  trampled  by 
lome  hundred  heavy  feet,  and  then  experiencing  a  kind  of 
swinging,  rocking  motion,  as  if  carried  on  something  ;  but 
these  sensations  are  far  too  vague  to  reason  upon,  much 
leas  to  chronicle. 


117 


CHAPTER    XII. 

A   CHARACTER. 

THERE  must  have  been  a  very  considerable  interval  from 
the  moment  I  have  last  recorded  to  that  in  which  I  next 
became  a  responsible  individual ;  but  in  what  manner,  in 
what  place,  or  in  what  company  it  was  passed,  the  reader 
must  excuse  my  indulging  for  many  important  reasons, 
one  of  which  is,  I  never  clearly  knew  anything  of  the 
matter. 

To  date  my  recollections  from  my  first  consciousness, 
I  may  state  that  I  found  myself  on  my  back  in  a  very 
narrow  bed,  a  table  beside  me  covered  with  phials  and 
small  flasks,  with  paper  cravats,  some  of  which  hung 
down,  queue  fashion,  to  an  absurd  extent.  A  few  rush- 
backed  and  bottomed  chairs  lay  along  the  walls,  which 
were  coarsely  whitewashed.  A  window,  of  very  unclean 
and  unprepossessing  aspect,  was  partly  shaded  by  a  faded 
scarlet  curtain,  while  the  floor  was  equally  sparingly 
decked  with  a  small  and  ragged  carpet.  Where  was  I  ? 
was  the  frequent  but  unsatisfactory  query  I  ever  put  to 
myself.  Could  this  be  a  prison — had  I  been  captured  on 
that  riotous  evening,  and  carried  off  to  gaol — or  was  I  in 
Darby  M'Keown's  territory  ?  for,  somehow,  a  very  general 
impression  was  on  my  mind  that  Darby's  gifts  of  ubiquity 
were  somewhat  remarkable ;  or,  lastly  (and  the  thought 
was  not  a  pleasant  one),  was  this  the  domicile  of  Anthony 
Basset,  Esq.,  Attorney-at-Law  ?  To  have  resolved  any  or 
all  of  these  doubts,  by  rising  and  taking  a  personal  survey 
of  the  premises,  would  have  been  my  first  thought ;  but, 
unluckily,  I  found  one  of  my  arms  bandaged,  and  enclosed 
in  a  brace  of  wooden  splints ;  a  very  considerable  general 
impression  pervaded  me  of  bruises  and  injuries  all  over 
my  body ;  and,  worse  still,  a  kind  of  megrim  accompanied 
every  attempt  to  lift  my  head  from  the  pillow,  that  made 
tne  heartily  glad  to  lie  down  again,  and  be  at  rest. 

Vol.  28— (5) 


118  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

That  I  had  not  fallen  into  unfriendly  hands  was  about 
the  extent  to  which  my  deductions  led  me,  and  with  this 
consolatory  fact,  and  a  steady  resolve  to  remain  awake 
three  days,  if  necessary,  so  as  to  interrogate  the  first 
visitor  who  should  approach  me,  I  mustered  all  my 
patience,  and  waited  quietly.  What  hour  of  the  day  it 
was  when  first  I  awoke  to  even  thus  much  of  conscious- 
ness I  cannot  say  ;  but  I  well  remember  watching  what 
appeared  to  me  twelve  mortal  hours  in  my  anxious  expec- 
tation ;  at  last  a  key  turned  in  an  outer  lock,  a  door  opened, 
and  I  heard  a  heavy  foot  enter.  This  was  shortly  followed 
by  another  step,  whose  lese  imposing  tread  was,  I  sus- 
pected, a  woman's. 

"  Where,  in  the  devil's  name,  is  the  candle  ?  "  said  a 
gruff  voice,  that  actually  seemed  to  me  not  unknown.  "  I 
left  it  on  the  table  when  I  went  out.  Oh!  my  shin's 
broke — that  infernal  table!  " 

"  Oh,  Lord !  oh,  Lord ! "  screamed  the  female  voice. 

"  Ah  !  you've  caught  it  too,"  cried  the  other,  in  glee  ; 
"  did  you  think  you  saw  a  little  blue  flame  before  you 
when  your  shin  was  barked  ?  " 

"  You're  a  monster !  "  said  the  lady,  in  a  tone  of  passion- 
ate indignation. 

"  Here  it  is — I  have  it,"  replied  the  other,  not  paying  the 
slightest  attention  to  the  endearing  epithet  last  bestowed  ; 
"and  d — n  me,  if  it's  not  burned  down  to  the  socket. 
Holloa  there !  Peter  Dodd — you  scoundrel,  where  are  you?" 

"  Call  him  Saladin,"  said  the  lady,  with  a  sneer,  "  and 
perhaps  he'll  answer." 

"  Imp  of  darkness,  where  are  you  gone  to  ?  Peter — 
Dodd — Dodd — Peter !  An !  you  young  blackguard,  where 
were  you  all  this  time  ?  " 

"  Asleep,  sir ;  sure  you  know  well,  sir,  it's  little  rest  I 
get,"  said  a  thin,  childish  voice  in  answer.  "  Wasn't  it 
five  o'clock  this  morning  when  I  divilled  the  two  kidneys 
ye  had  for  supper  for  the  four  officers  and  had  to  borrey 
the  Kian  pepper  over  the  way  ?" 

"  I'll  bore  a  gimlet-hole  through  your  pineal  gland,  and 
stuff  it  with  brass-headed  nails,  if  you  reply  to  me.  Anna 
Maria,  that  was  a  fine  thought,  eh  ? — glorious,  by  Jove ! 
There,  put  the  candle  there  ;  hand  your  mistress  a  chair  ; 
give  me  my  robit  de  chambre.  Confound  me,  if  it's  not 


A   CHARACTEB.  119 

getting  like  the  kingdom  of  Prussia  on  the  map,  full  of 
very  straggling  dependencies.     Supper,  Saladin." 

"  The  sorrow  taste " 

"  What !  thou  piece  of  human  ebony,  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  Me  hab  no — a — ting  in  de  larder,"  cried  the  child,  in  a 
broken  voice. 

"  Isn't  there  a  back  of  a  duck  and  two  slices  of  cold 
bacon  ?  "  asked  the  lady,  in  the  tone  of  a  cross-examining 
barrister. 

"  I  poisoned  the  bacon  for  the  rats,  Miss  ;  and  for  the 
duck " 

"  Let  me  strangle  him  with  my  own  hands,"  shouted 
the  man ;  "  let  me  tear  him  up  into  merry-thoughts. 
Look  here,  sirrah,  "said  he,  in  a  voice  like  John  Kemble's, 
"  there  may  be  nothing  which  man  eats  within  these  walls, 
there  may  not  be  wherewithal  to  regale  a  sickly  fly — no, 
aot  enough  for  one  poor  spider  to  lunch  upon  ;  but  if  you 
ever  dare  to  reply  to  me,  save  in  Oriental  phrase,  I'll 
throw  you  in  a  sack,  call  my  mutes,  and  hurl  you  into  the 
Bosphorus." 

"  Where,  sir  ?  " 

"  The  Dodder,  you  son  of  a  burnt  father.     My  hookah.** 

"  My  slippers,"  repeated  the  lady. 

"  My  lute,  and  the  sherbet,"  added  the  gentleman. 

By  the  stir  in  the  chamber,  these  arrangements,  or 
something  equivalent  to  them,  seemed  to  have  taken 
place,  when  again  I  heard, — 

"  Dance  a  lively  measure,  Saladin;  my  soul  is  heavy." 

Here  a  most  vile  tinkling  of  a  guitar  was  heard,  to 
which,  by  the  sounds  of  the  feet,  I  could  perceive  Saladiu 
was  moving  in  a  species  of  dance. 

"  Let  the  child  go  to  bed,  and  don't  be  making  a  fool  of 
yourself,"  said  the  lady,  in  a  voice  of  bursting  passion. 

"Thank  Heaven,"  said  I,  half  aloud,  "she  isn't 
mad." 

"  Tink,  tink,  a-tink-a-tink,  tink-a-tiuk-a-dido,"  thrummed 
out  her  companion.  "I  say,  Saladin,  heat  me  a  little  porter, 
with  an  egg,  and  some  sugar." 

The  door  closed  as  the  imp  made  his  exit,  and  there 
was  silence  for  some  seconds,  during  which  my  upper- 
most thought  was,  "  What  infernal  mischance  has  thrown 
me  into  a  lunatic  asylum  ?  "  At  length  the  man  spoke,— 


120  TOM  BURKE   OF   "  CUES.** 

"  I  say,  Anna  Maria,  Cradock  has  this  run  of  luck  a 
long  time." 

"He  plays  better  than  you,"  responded  the  lady, 
sharply. 

"  I  deny  it,"  rejoined  he,  angrily.  "  I  play  whist  better 
than  any  man  that  ever  lived,  except  the  Begum  of  Sou- 
tancantantarabad,  who  beat  my  father.  They  played  for 
lacs  of  rupees  on  the  points,  and  a  territory  on  the  rub  ; 
five  to  two,  first  game  against  the  loser,  in  white  ele- 
phants." 

"  How  you  do  talk !  "  said  Anna  Maria  ;  "  do  you  forget 
that  all  this  rubbish  doesn't  go  down  with  me  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  mean  old  Hickory,  that  had  the  snuff-shop  in 
Bath,  used  only  to  give  me  one  point  in  the  rub,  and  we 
played  for  sixpence — damme,  I'll  not  forget  it — he  cleaned 
me  out  in  no  time.  Tink,  tink,  a-tink-a-tink,  tink-a-tiuk-a- 
dido.  Here,  Saladin,  bear  me  the  spicy  cup,  ambrosial 
boy!" 

"  Ahem  !  "  said  the  lady,  in  a  tone  that  didn't  sound 
exactly  like  concurrence. 

"  Eat  a  few  dates,  and  then  repose,"  said  the  deep 
roice. 

"  I  wish  I  had  them,  av  they  were  eatable,"  said 
Saladin,  as  he  turned  away. 

"  Wretch !  yon  have  forgotten  to  salaam  ;  exit  slowly. 
Tink,  tink,  a-tink-a-tink.  Anna  Maria,  he's  devilish  good, 
now,  for  black  parts.  I  think  I'll  make  Jones  bring  him 
out.  Wouldn't  it  be  original  to  make  Othello  talk  broken 
English  ?  '  Farewell  de  camp  ! '  Eh !  by  Jove,  that's  a 
fine  thought.  '  De  spirit-stir  a  drum,  de  piercy  pipe  ' — by 
Jove  !  I  like  that  notion." 

Here  the  gentleman  rose  in  a  glorious  burst  of  en- 
thusiasm, and  began  repeating  snatches  from  Shakspeare, 
in  the  pleasant  travesty  he  had  hit  upon. 

"  Cradock  revoked,  and  you  never  saw  him,"  said  the 
lady,  dryly,  interrupting  the  monologue. 

"  I  did  see  it  clearly  enough,  but  1  had  done  so  twice 
the  same  game,"  said  he,  gaily;  "and  if  the  grave  were 
to  give  up  its  dead,  I,  too,  should  be  a  murderer.  Fine 
thought  that,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  He  won  seventeen-and-sixpenoe  from  you,"  rejoined 
she,  pettishly. 


A   CHARACTER.  181 

"Two  bad  half-crowns — dowlas,  filthy  dowlas,"  was  the 
answer. 

"  And  the  hopeful  young  gentleman  in  the  next  room, 
what  profitable  intentions,  may  I  ask  yon,  have  you  with 
respect  to  him  ?  " 

"  Burke !  Tom  Burke !  Bless  your  heart,  he's  only 
son  and  heir  to  Burke  of  Mount  Blazes,  in  the  county 
Galway.  His  father  keeps  three  packs  of  harriers,  one  of 
fox,  and  another  of  stag-hounds — a  kind  of  brindled 
devils,  three  feet  eight  in  height ;  he  won't  take  them 
under.  His  father  and  mine  were  schoolfellows  at  Dun- 
dunderamud,  in  the  Himalaya,  and  he — that  is,  old  Bnrke 
— saved  my  father's  life  in  a  tiger- hunt ;  and  am  I  to  for- 
get the  heritage  of  gratitude  my  father  left  me  ?  " 

"  You  ought  not,  perhaps,  since  it  was  the  only  one  he 
bequeathed,"  quoth  the  lady. 

"  What !  Is  the  territory  of  Shamdoonah  and  Bunfun- 
terabad  nothing  ?  Are  the  great  suits  of  red  emeralds  and 
blue  opal,  that  were  once  the  crown-jewels  of  Saidh  Sing 
Doolah,  nothing  ?  Is  the  scimitar  of  Hafiz,  with  verses 
of  the  Koran  in  letters  of  pure  brilliants,  nothing  ?  " 

"  You'll  drive  me  distracted  with  your  insane  folly," 
rejoined  the  lady,  rising  and  pushing  back  her  chair  with 
violence.  "  To  talk  this  way  when  you  know  you  haven't 
got  a  five-pound  note  in  the  world." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha !  "  laughed  out  the  jolly  voice  of  th& 
other ;  "  that's  good,  faith.  If  I  only  consented  to  dip 
my  Irish  property,  I  could  raise  fourteen  hundred  and 
seventy  thousand  pounds,  so  Mahony  tells  me.  But  I'll 
never  give  up  the  royalties — never.  There,  you  have 
my  last  word  on  the  matter :  rather  than  surrender  my 
tin  mine,  I'd  consent  to  starve  on  twelve  thousand  a  year, 
and  resign  my  claim  to  the  title  which,  I  believe,  the 
next  session  will  give  me ;  and  when  you  are  Lady 
Machinery — something  or  other — maybe  they  won't  bite, 
eh  ?  Ramskins  versus  wrinkles." 

A  violent  bang  of  the  door  announced  at  this  moment 
the  exit  of  the  lady  in  a  rage,  to  which  her  companion 
paid  no  attention,  as  he  continued  to  mumble  to  himself, — 

"  Surrender  the  royalties — never.  Oh,  she's  gone- 
well,  she's  not  far  wrong  after  all.  I  dare  not  draw  a 
cheque  on  my  own  exchequer  at  this  moment  for  a  larger 


122  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OTJH8. 

sum  tlian— Jet  me  see — twenty-four,  twenty-five,  twenty- 
eight-and-tenpence  ;  with  twenty-nine  shillings,  the  grand 
firm  of  Bubbleton  and  Co.  must  shut  up  and  suspend 
their  payments."  So  saying,  he  walked  from  the  room 
in  stately  fashion,  and  closed  the  door  after  him. 

My  first  thought,  as  I  listened  to  this  speech,  was  one 
of  gratefulness  that  I  had  fallen  into  the  friendly  hands 
of  my  old  coach  companion,  whose  kindness  still  lived 
fresh  in  my  memory ;  my  next  was,  what  peculiar  form 
of  madness  could  account  for  the  strange  outpouring  I 
had  just  overheard,  in  which  my  own  name  was  so 
absurdly  introduced,  coupled  with  family  circumstances 
I  knew  never  had  occurred.  Sleep  was  now  out  of  the 
question  with  me ;  for  whole  hours  long  I  could  do 
nothing  but  revolve  in  my  mind  all  the  extraordinary 
odds  and  ends  of  my  friend  Bubbleton's  conversation, 
which  I  remembered  to  have  been  so  struck  by  at  my  first 
meeting  with  him.  The  miraculous  adventures  of  his 
career,  his  hair-breadth  'scapes,  his  enormous  wealth,  the 
voluptuous  ease  of  his  daily  life,  and  his  habits  of  luxury 
and  expenditure  with  which  he  then  astounded  me,  had 
now  received  some  solution — while,  at  the  same  time, 
there  was  something  in  his  own  common-sense  observa- 
tions to  himself  that  puzzled  me  much,  and  gave  a  great 
difficulty  to  all  my  calculations  concerning  him. 

To  all  these  conflicting  doubts  and  difficulties  sleep  at 
last  succeeded ;  but  better  far  for  me  it  had  not ;  for 
with  it  came  dreams  such  as  sick  men  only  experience ; 
all  the  distorted  images  that  rose  before  my  wandering 
faculties,  mingling  with  the  strange  fragments  of  Bub- 
bleton's conversation,  made  a  phantasmagoria  the  most 
perplexing  and  incomprehensible ;  and  which,  even  on 
waking,  I  could  not  banish,  so  completely  had  Saladin 
and  his  pas  seul,  the  guitar,  the  hookah,  and  the  suit  of 
red  emeralds  taken  hold  of  my  erring  intellect. 

Candid,  though  not  fair  reader,  have  you  ever  been 
tipsy?  Have  you  ever  gone  so  far  over  the  boundary  line 
that  separates  the  land  of  mere  sobriety  from  its  neighbour- 
ing territory,  the  country  of  irresponsible  impulses,  that  you 
actually  doubted  which  was  the  way  back,  that  you  thought 
you  saw  as  much  good  sense  and  good  judgment  on  the 
one  side  of  the  frontier  as  the  other,  with  only  a  strong 


A    CHARACTER.  128 

balance  of  good-fellowship  to  induce  a  preference?  If 
you  know  this  state,  if  you  have  taken  the  precise  quan- 
tum of  champagne,  or  moselle  mousseux,  that  induces  it, 
and  yet  goes  no  farther,  then  do  you  perfectly  understand 
all  the  trials  and  difficulties  of  my  waking  moments,  and 
you  can  appreciate  the  arduous  task  I  undertook  in  my 
effort  to  separate  the  real  from  the  imaginary,  the  true 
types  from  their  counterfeits;  in  a  word,  the  wanderings 
of  my  own  brain  from  those  of  Captain  Bubbleton's. 

In  this  agreeable  and  profitable  occupation  was  I  en- 
gaged, when  the'same  imposing  tread  and  heavy  footstep 
I  had  heard  the  previous  evening  entered  the  adjoining 
room  and  approached  my  door.  The  lock  turned,  and  the 
illustrious  Captain,  himself  appeared ;  and  here  let  me 
observe,  that  if  grave  censure  be  occasionally  bestowed  on 
persons  who,  by  the  assumption  of  voice,  look,  or  costume, 
seek  to  terrorize  over  infant  minds,  a  no  less  heavy  sen- 
tence should  be  bestowed  on  all  who  lord  it  over  the  frail 
faculties  of  sickness  by  any  absurdity  in  their  personal 
appearance ;  and  that  I  may  not  seem  captious,  let  me 
describe  my  friend.  The  Captain,  who  was  somewhere 
about  the  forties,  was  a  full- faced,  chubby,  good-looking 
fellow,  of  some  five  feet  ten  or  eleven  inches  in  height ;  his 
countenance  had  been  intended  by  nature  for  the  expression 
of  such  emotions  as  arise  from  the  enjoyment  of  turtle, 
milk-punch,  truffled  turkeys,  mulled  port,  mulligatawny, 
etilton,  stout,  and  pickled  oysters ;  a  rich,  mellow-looking 
pair  of  dark-brown  eyes,  with  large  bushy  eyebrows,  meet- 
ing above  the  nose,  which  latter  feature  was  a  little  "  on 
the  snub,  and  off  the  Roman  ;  "  his  mouth  was  thick-lipped, 
and  had  that  peculiar  mobility  which  seems  inseparable, 
wherever  eloquence  or  imagination  predominate;  in  colour, 
his  face  was  of  that  uniform  hue  painters  denominate  as 
"  warm,"  in  fact,  a  rich  sunset  Claude-Lorrainish  tint, 
that  seemed  a  compound,  the  result  of  high-seasoned 
meats,  plethora,  punch,  and  the  tropics ;  in  figure,  he  was 
like  a  huge  pudding-bag,  supported  on  two  short  little 
dumpy  pillars  that,  from  a  sense  of  the  superincumbent 
weight,  had  wisely  spread  themselves  out  below,  giving  to 
his  lower  man  the  appearance  of  a  stunted  letter  A ;  his 
arms  were  most  preposterously  short,  and,  for  the  con- 
venience of  locomotion,  he  used  them  somewhat  after  the 


124  TOM   BURKT5   OF    "  OURS.*' 

fashion  of  fins  ;  as  to  his  costume  on  the  morning  in  ques- 
tion, it  was  a  singularly  dirty  and  patched  dressing-gown 
of  antique  silk,  fastened  about  the  waist  by  a  girdle,  from 
which  depended  a  scimitar  on  one  side,  and  a  meerschaum 
on  the  other;  a  well-worn  and  not  over  clean-looking 
shawl  was  fastened  in  fashion  of  a  turban  round  his  head ; 
a  pair  of  yellow  buskins  with  faded  gold  tassels  decorated 
legs  which  occasionally  peeped  from  the  folds  of  the  role 
de  chambre,  without  any  other  covering. 

Such  was  the  outward  man  of  him  who  suddenly  stopped 
short  at  the  doorway,  while  he  held  the  latch  in  his  hand, 
and  called  out, — 

"  Burke !  Tom  Burke,  don't  be  violent,  don't  be  out- 
rageous, you  see  I'm  armed !  I'd  cut  you  down  without 
mercy  if  you  attempt  to  lift  a  finger !  Promise  me  this—- 
do you  hear  me  ?  " 

That  any  one  even  unarmed  could  have  conceived  fear 
from  such  a  poor  weak  object  as  I  was,  seemed  so  utterly 
absurd,  that  I  laughed  outright ;  an  emotion  on  my  part 
that  seemingly  imparted  but  little  confidence  to  my  friend 
the  Captain,  who  retreated  still  closer  to  the  door,  and 
seemed  ready  for  flight.  The  first  use  I  could  make  of 
speech,  however,  was,  to  assure  him  that  I  was  not  only 
perfectly  calm  and  sensible,  but  deeply  grateful  for 
kindness  which  I  knew  not  how,  nor  to  whom,  I  became 
indebted. 

"  Don't  roll  your  eyes  there ;  don't  look  so  d — d 
treacherous  !  "  said  he ;  "  keep  down  your  hands ;  keep 
them  under  the  bed-clothes.  I'd  put  a  bullet  through 
your  skull  if  you  stirred !  " 

I  again  protested  that  any  manifestation  of  quietness  he 
asked  for  I  would  immediately  comply  with,  and  begged 
him  to  sit  down  beside  me  and  tell  me  where  I  was  and 
how  I  had  come  hither.  Having  established  an  outwork 
of  a  table  and  two  chairs  between  us,  and  cautiously  having 
left  the  door  ajar,  to  secure  his  retreat,  he  drew  the  scimi- 
tar and  placed  it  before  him,  his  eyes  being  fixed  on  me 
the  entire  time. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  as  he  assumed  a  seat,  and  leaned  his 
arm  on  the  table,  "  so  you  are  quiet  at  last.  Lord  I  what 
a  frightful  lunatic  you  were.  Nobody  would  approach 
your  bed  but  me.  The  stoutest  keeper  of  Swift's  Hospital 


A    CHARACTER.  125 

fled  from  the  spot,  while  I  said,  '  Leave  him  to  me.  The 
human  eye  is  your  true  agent  to  humble  the  pride  of 
maniacal  frenzy.' " 

With  these  words  he  fixed  on  me  a  look  such  as  the 
chief  murderer  in  a  melodrama  assumes  at  the  moment  he 
proceeds  to  immolate  a  whole  family. 

"  You  infernal  young  villain,  how  I  subdued  you — how 
you  quailed  before  me !  " 

There  was  something  so  ludicrous  in  the  contrast  of  thil 
bravery  with  his  actual  terror,  that  again  I  burst  out 
a-laughing,  upon  which  he  sprang  up,  and  brandishing  his 
sabre,  vowed  vengeance  on  me  if  I  stirred.  After  a  con- 
siderable time  spent  thus,  I  at  last  succeeded  in  impressing 
him  with  the  fact,  that  if  I  had  all  the  will  in  the  world  to 
tear  him  to  pieces,  my  strength  would  not  suffice  to  carry 
me  to  the  door — an  assurance  which,  however  sorrowfully 
made  by  me,  I  perceived  to  afford  him  the  most  unmixed 
satisfaction. 

"  That's  right,  quite  right,"  said  he,  "  and  mad  should 
he  be  indeed  who  would  measure  strength  with  me.  The 
red  men  of  Tuscarora  always  called  me  the  great  buffalo. 
I  used  to  carry  a  bark  canoe  with  my  squaw  and  nine 
little  black  devils  under  one  arm,  so  as  to  leave  the  other 
free  for  my  tomahawk.  '  He,  how,  he  ! '  that's  the  war 
step." 

Here  he  stooped  down  to  his  knees,  and  then  sprang  up 
again,  with  a  yell  that  actually  made  me  ^tart,  and  brought 
a  new  actor  on  the  scene  in  the  person  of  Anna  Maria, 
whose  name  I  had  so  frequently  heard  the  night  before. 

"  What  is  the  matter  r"'  said  the  lady,  a  short,  squab- 
like  woman,  of  nearly  the  Captain's  age,  but  none  of  his 
personal  attractions.  "  We  can't  have  him  screaming 
all  day  in  that  fashion." 

"  It  isn't  he,  it  was  I  who  was  performing  the  war 
dance.  Come,  now,  let  down  your  hair,  and  be  a  squaw 
— do.  What  trouble  is  it?  and  bring  in  Saladin;  we'll 
get  up  a  combat  scene ;  devilish  fine  thought  that ! " 

The  indignant  look  of  the  lady  in  reply  to  this  modest 
proposal  again  overpowered  me,  and  I  sank  back  in  my 
bed  exhausted  with  laughter,  an  emotion  which  I  was 
forced  to  subdue  as  wefl  as  I  might  on  beholding  the 
angry  countenance  with  which  the  lady  regarded  me, 


126  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS.** 

"  I  say,  Burke,"  cried  the  Captain,  "  let  me  present  you 
to  my  sister,  Miss  Anna  Maria  Bubbleton." 

A  very  dry  recognition  on  Miss  Anna  Maria's  part 
replied  to  the  effort  I  made  to  salute  her,  and  as  she 
turned  on  her  heel,  she  said  to  her  brother,  "  Breakfast's 
ready,"  and  left  the  room. 

Bubbleton  jumped  up  at  this,  rubbed  his  mouth  plea- 
santly with  his  hand,  smacked  his  lips,  and  then  dropping 
his  voice  to  a  whisper,  muttered, — 

"  Excuse  me,  Tom,  but  if  I  have  a  weakness  it  is  for 
Yarmouth  bloaters,  and  anchovy  toast,  milk  chocolate, 
marmalade,  hot  rolls,  and  reindeer  tongue,  with  a  very 
small  glass  of  pure  white  brandy,  as  a  qualifier."  So 
saying,  he  whisked  about  and  made  his  exit. 

While  my  host  was  thus  occupied  1  was  visited  by  the 
regimental  surgeon,  who  informed  me  that  my  illness  had 
now  been  of  some  weeks'  duration ;  severe  brain  fever, 
with  various  attending  evils,  and  a  broken  arm,  being  the 
happy  results  of  my  evening's  adventure  at  the  Parlia- 
ment House. 

"  Bubbleton  is  an  old  friend  of  yours,"  continued  the 
doctor ;  and  then,  without  giving  me  time  to  reply,  added, 
"  capital  fellow,  no  better;  a  little  given  to  the  miracu- 
lous— eh  ?  but  nothing  worse." 

"  Why,  he  does  indeed  seem  to  have  a  strong  vein  for 
fiction,"  said  I,  half  timidly. 

"  Bless  your  heart,  he  never  ceases ;  his  world  is  an 
ideal  thing,  full  of  impossible  people  and  events,  where 
he  has  lived  at  least  some  centuries,  enjoying  the  intima- 
cies of  princes,  statesmen,  poets,  and  warriors ;  he  has, 
in  his  own  estimation,  unlimited  wealth  and  unbounded 
resources,  the  want  of  which  he  is  never  convinced  of  till 
pressed  for  five  shillings  to  buy  his  dinner." 

"  And  his  sister,"  said  I,  "  what  of  her  ?  " 

"  Just  as  strange  a  character  in  the  opposite  direction. 
She  is  as  matter-of-fact  as  he  is  imaginative.  To  all 
his  flights  she  as  resolutely  enters  a  dissentient ;  and  he 
never  inflates  his  balloon  of  miracles  without  her  stepping 
forward  to  punch  a  hole  in  it.  But  here  they  come." 

"  I  say,  Pepper,  how  goes  your  patient  ?  Spare  no 
pains,  old  fellow — no  expense ;  only  get  him  round.  I've 
left  a  cheaue  for  you  for  five  hundred  in  the  next  room. 


A  CHARACT3B.  127 

This  is  no  regimental  case — come,  come,  it's  my  way,  and 
I  insist  upon  it." 

Pepper  bowed  with  an  air  of  the  deepest  gratitude,  and 
actually  looked  so  overpowered  by  the  liberality,  that  I 
began  to  suspect  there  might  be  less  truth  in  his  account 
of  Bubbleton  than  I  thought  a  few  minutes  before. 

"  All  insanity  has  left  him — that's  pleasant.  I  say, 
Tom,  you  must  have  had  glorious  thoughts,  eh  ?  When 
you  were  mad,  did  you  ever  think  you  were  an  anaconda 
bolting  a  goat,  or  the  Eddystone  lighthouse  when  the 
foundation  began  to  shift?" 

"  No,  never." 

"  How  odd !  I  remember  being  once  thrown  on  my 
head  off  a  drag.  I  was  breaking  in  a  pair  of  young  uni- 
corns for  the  Queen  of " 

"  No  ! "  said  Anna  Maria,  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  hold- 
ing up  her  finger,  at  the  same  moment,  in  token  of  reproof. 

The  Captain  became  mute  on  the  instant,  and  the  very 
word  he  was  about  to  utter  stuck  in  his  throat,  and  he 
stood  with  his  mouth  open,  like  one  in  enchantment. 

"  You  said  a  little  weak  tea,  I  think,"  said  Miss  Bub- 
bleton, turning  towards  the  doctor. 

"  Yes,  and  some  dry  toast,  if  he  liked  it ;  and,  in  a 
day  or  two,  a  half  glass  of  wine-and- water." 

"  Some  of  that  tokay  old  Pippo  Esterhazy  sent  us." 

"  No,"  said  the  lady  again,  in  the  same  tone  of  menace. 

"  And,  perhaps,  after  a  week,  the  open  air  and  a  little 
exercise  in  a  carriage." 

"  The  barouche  and  the  four  ponies,"  interrupted 
Bubbleton. 

"  No,"  repeated  Miss  Anna  Maria,  but  in  such  a  voice 
of  imperious  meaning,  that  the  poor  Captain  actually  fell 
back,  and  only  muttered  to  himself, — 

"  What  would  be  the  use  of  wealth,  if  one  couldn't  con- 
tribute to  the  enjoyment  of  one's  friends  ?  " 

"  There's  the  drum  for  parade,"  cried  the  doctor  ; 
"  you'll  be  late,  and  so  shall  I." 

They  both  bustled  out  of  the  room  together,  while  Miss 
Anna  Maria,  taking  her  work  out  of  a  small  bag  she  car- 
ried on  her  arm,  drew  a  chair  to  the  window  and  sat  down, 
having  quietly  intimated  to  me  that,  as  conversation  was 
deemed  injurious  to  me,  I  must  not  speak  one  syllable. 


128  TOM   BURIDB   OF 


CHAPTER  XIH. 

AH     CTNLOO KKD-F 0 B     V  I  S  I  T  0  «. 

ALL  my  endeavours  to  ascertain  the  steps  by  which  I  came 
to  occupy  my  present  abode  were  fruitless,  inasmuch  as 
Captain  Bubbleton  contrived  to  surround  his  explanation 
with  such  a  mist  of  doubtful,  if  not  impossible,  circum- 
stances, that  I  gave  up  the  effort  in  despair,  and  was 
obliged  to  sit  down  satisfied  with  the  naked  fact,  that  it 
was  by  some  soldiers  of  his  company  I  was  captured,  and 
by  them  brought  to  the  guard-house.  Strangely  enough, 
too,  I  found  that,  in  his  self-mystification,  the  worthy  Cap- 
tain had  invested  me  with  all  the  honours  of  a  stanch 
loyalist  who  had  earned  his  cracked  skull  in  defence  of  the 
soldiery  against  the  mob  ;  and  this  prevailing  impression 
gave  such  a  tone  to  his  narrative,  that  he  not  only  set  to 
work  to  trace  back  a  whole  generation  of  Burkes  famed 
for  their  attachment  to  the  House  of  Hanover,  but  also 
took  a  peep  into  the  probable  future,  where  he  saw  me 
covered  with  rewards  for  my  heroism  and  gallantry. 

Young  as  I  was,  I  hesitated  long  how  far  I  dare  trust 
him  with  the  real  state  of  the  case.  I  felt  that  in  so  doing 
I  should  either  expose  him  to  the  self-reproach  of  having 
harboured  one  he  would  deem  a  rebel — or,  by  withdraw- 
ing from  me  his  protection,  give  him,  perhaps,  greater 
pain  by  compelling  him  to  such  an  ungracious  act.  Yet 
how  could  I  receive  attention  and  kindness  under  these 
false  colours  ?  This  was  a  puzzling  and  difficult  thing  to 
resolve  ;  and  a  hundred  times  a  day  I  wished  I  had  never 
been  rescued  by  him,  but  taken  my  chance  of  the  worst 
fortune  had  in  store  for  me. 

While,  therefore,  my  strength  grew  with  every  day,  these 
thoughts  harassed  and  depressed  me.  The  continual  con- 
flict in  my  mind  deprived  me  of  all  ease ;  and  scarcely  a 
morning  broke  in  which  I  had  not  decided  on  avowing  my 
real  position  and  my  true  sentiments  ;  and  still,  when  the 
moment  came,  the  flighty  uncertainty  of  Bubbleton's  man- 


AN  UNLOOKED-FOR  VISITOB.  129 

ner — his  caprice  and  indiscretion — all  frightened  me,  and  I 
was  silent.  I  hoped,  too,  that  some  questioning  on  his  part 
might  give  me  a  fitting  opportunity  for  such  a  disclosure ; 
but  here  again  I  was  deceived.  The  jolly  Captain  was  far 
too  busy  inventing  his  own  history  of  me,  to  think  of  ask- 
ing for  mine ;  and  I  found  out  from  the  surgeon  of  the 
regiment  that  according  to  the  statement  made  at  the  mess- 
table,  I  was  an  only  son,  possessed  of  immense  estates — 
somewhat  encumbered,  to  be  sure  (among  other  debts,  a 
large,  jointure  to  my  mother) — that  I  had  come  up  to  town 
to  consult  the  Attorney- General  about  the  succession  to  a 
title  long  in  abeyance  in  my  family,  and  was  going  down  to 
the  House  in  Lord  Castlereagh's  carriage,  when,  fired  by 
the  ruffianism  of  the  mob,  I  sprang  out,  and  struck  one  of 
the  ringleaders,  &c.,  &c. 

How  this  visionary  history  had  its  origin,  or  whether  it 
had  any,  save  in.  the  wandering  fancies  of  his  brain,  I  know 
nob  ;  but  either  by  frequent  repetition  of  it,  or  by  the  strong 
hold  a  favourite  notion  sometimes  will  take  of  a  weak  in- 
tellect, he  so  far  believed  it  true,  that  he  wrote  more  than 
one  letter  to  Lord  Castlereagh,  to  assure  him  that  I  was 
rapidly  recovering,  and  would  be  delighted  to  receive  him 
— which,  whether  from  a  knowledge  of  the  Captain's  cha- 
racter, or  his  indifference  as  to  my  fate,  the  secretary  cer- 
tainly never  took  any  notice  of  whatever. 

Bubbleton  had  too  much  experience  of  similar  instances 
of  neglect  to  be  either  afflicted  or  offended  at  this  silence ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  satisfied  his  mind  by  an  excuse  of  his 
own  inventing,  and  went  about  saying,  "  I  think  we'll 
have  Castlereagh  down  to-day  to  see  Burke,"  until-  it  be- 
came a  cant  on  parade,  and  a  jest  at  mess. 

Meanwhile,  his  active  mind  was  not  lying  dormant. 
Indignant  that  no  inquiries  had  been  made  after  me,  and 
astonished  that  no  aide-de-camp — not  even  a  liveried  me- 
nial of  the  Viceroy's  household — had  come  down  to  receive 
the  daily  bulletin  of  my  health,  and  somewhat  piqued, 
perhaps,  that  his  own  important  services  regarding  me  re- 
mained unacknowledged,  he  set  about  springing  a  mine  for 
himself,  which  very  nearly  became  my  ruin. 

After  about  ten  days  spent  by  me  in  this  state  of  pain- 
ful vacillation,  my  mind  vibrating  between  two  opposite 
courses,  and  seeing  arguments  for  either,  both  in  the 

T 


130  TOM   BURKE    OF   "  OURS." 

matter-of-fact  shortness  of  Miss  Bubbleton's  not  over-cour- 
teous manner,  and  the  splendidly  liberal  and  vast  concep- 
tions of  her  brother,  I  went  to  my  bed  one  night,  resolved 
that  on  the  very  next  morning  I  would  hesitate  no  longer ; 
and  as  my  strength  would  now  permit  of  my  being  able  to 
walk  unassisted,  I  would  explain  freely  to  Bubbleton  every 
circumstance  of  my  life,  and  take  my  leave  of  him,  to 
wander,  I  knew  not  where.  This  decision  at  length  being 
com  >  to,  I  slept  more  soundly  than  I  had  slept  for  many 
nights,  nor  awoke  until  the  loud  step  and  the  louder  voice 
of  the  captain  had  aroused  me  from  my  slumbers. 

"  Eh,  Tom — a  good  night,  my  lad  ?  How  soundly  you 
sleep  !  Just  like  the  Lachigong  Indians  :  they  go  to  bed 
after  the  hunting  season,  and  never  wake  till  the  bears 
come  in  next  fall.  I  had  the  knack  myself  once,  but  then 
I  always  took  six  or  seven  dozen  of  strong  Burton  ale 
first — and  that,  they  said,  wasn't  quite  fair;  but  for  a 
white  man,  I'd  back  myself  for  a  thousand  to-morrow. 
But  what's  this  I  have  to  tell  you  ?  Something  or  other 
was  in  my  head  for  you.  Oh,  I  have  it !  I  say,  Tom,  old 
fellow,  I  think  I  have  touched  them  up  to  some  purpose. 
They  didn't  expect  it — no,  hang  it !  they  little  knew  what 
was  in  store  for  them.  They  weren't  quite  prepared  for 
it.  By  Jove,  that  they  weren't ! " 

"Who  are  they?"  said  I,  sitting  up  in  my  bed,  and 
somewhat  curious  to  hear  something  of  these  astonished 
individuals. 

"  The  Government,  my  lad ! — the  Castle — the  Private 
Sec. — the  Major — the  Treasury — the  Board  of  Green 
Cloth — the — what  d'ye  call  them  ? — the  Privy  Council." 

"  Why,  what  has  happened  them?" 

"  I'll  show  you  what's  happened.  Lie  down  again  and 
compose  yourself.  He  won't  be  here  before  twelve  o'clock ; 
though,  by  the  bye,  I  promised  on  my  honour  not  to  say  a 
word  about  his  coming.  But  it's  over  now." 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  said  I,  eagerly. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  tell  now.  You'll  see  him  very  soon,  and 
right  glad  he'll  be  to  see  you,  so  he  says.  But  here  they 
are — here's  the  whole  affair."  So  saying,  he  covered  the 
bed  with  a  mass  of  newspapers,  and  blotted,  ill- written 
manuscripts,  among  which  he  commenced  a  vigorous 
search  at  once. 


AN    UNLOOKED-FOR    VISITOB.  131 

"  Here  it  is.  I've  found  it  out.  Listen  to  this :  *  The 
Press,  Friday,  August  10. —  The  magnificent  ourang- 
ontang  that  Captain  Bubbleton  is  about  to  present  to  the 

Lady-Lieutenant '  No ;  that  isn't  it.  It  must  be  in 

Faulkner.  Ay,  here  we  have  it :  'In  Captain  Bubbleton's 
forthcoming  volume,  which  we  have  been  favoured  with  a 
private  perusal  of,  a  very  singular  account  is  given  of  the 
gigantic  mouse  found  in  Candia,  which  grows  to  the  size 

of  a  common  mastiff '  No  ;  that's  not  it.  You've 

heard  of  that,  Tom,  though,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  Never,"  said  I,  trying  to  repress  a  smile. 

"  I'm  amazed  at  that.  Never  heard  of  my  curious  specu- 
lations about  the  Candian  mouse  !  The  fellow  has  a  voice 
like  a  human  being — you'd  hear  him  crying  in  the  woods, 
and  you'd  swear  it  was  a  child.  I've  a  notion  that  the 
Greeks  took  their  word  '  mousikos  '  from  this  fellow  ;  but 
that's  not  what  I'm  looking  for.  No  ;  but  here  it  is.  This 
is  squib  No.  1 :  '  Tuesday  morning. — We  are  at  length 
enabled  to  state  that  the  young  gentleman  who  took  such 
a  prominent  part  in  defending  the  military  against  the 
savage  and  murderous  attack  of  the  mob  in  the  late  riot 
in  College  Green  is  now  out  of  danger ;  being  removed  to 
Captain  Bubbleton's  quarters  in  George's  Street  Barracks, 
he  was  immediately  trepanned ' " 

"  Eh  ?  trepanned !  " 

"  No,  you  weren't  trepanned  ;  but  Pepper  said  you  might 
have  been  though,  and  he'd  just  as  soon  do  it  as  not;  so 
I  put  in  trepanned.  '  The  pia-mater  was  fortunately  not 
cut  through.'  That  you  don't  understand  ;  but  no  matter 

— hem,  hem !  '  Congestion  of- '  hem,  hem  !  '  In  our 

next,  we  hope  to  give  a  still  more  favourable  report.' 
Then  here's  the  next :  '  To  the  aide-de-camp  sent  to  inquire 
after  the  "  hero  of  College  Green,"  the  answer  this  morning 
was — '  Better — able  to  sit  up.'  '  Well,  here  we  go. 
No.  3 :  '  His  Excellency  mentioned  this  morning  at  the 
Privy  Council  the  satisfaction  he  felt  at  being  able  to 

announce  that  Mr. (from  motives  of  delicacy  we 

omit  the  name)  is  now  permitted  to  take  some  barley- 
gruel,  with  a  spoonful  of  old  Madeira.  The  Bishop  of 
Ferns  and  Sir  Boyle  Roach  both  left  their  cards  yesterday 
at  the  barracks.'  I  waited  a  day  or  two  after  this ;  but 
—would  you  believe  it  ? — no  notice  was  taken  ;  not  even 


182  TOM    BUHKB    OF    "  OURS." 

the  opposition  papers  said  a  word,  except  some  insolent 
rascal  in  The  Press  asks — '  Can  you  tell  your  readers  are 
we  to  have  anything  more  from  Captain  Bubbleton  ?  '  So 
then  I  resolved  to  come  out  in  force,  and  here  you  see  the 
result :  '  Friday,  20th. — It  is  now  our  gratifying  task  to 
announce  the  complete  restoration  of  the  young  gentleman 
whose  case  has,  for  some  weeks  past,  been  the  engrossing 
topic  of  conversation  of  all  ranks  and  classes,  from  the 
table  of  the  Viceroy  to  the  humble  denizen  of  Mud  Island. 
Mr.  Burke  is  the  only  son  and  heir  to  the  late  Matthew- 
Burke,  of  Cremore,  county  of  Galway.  His  family  have 
been  long  distinguished  for  their  steady,  uncompromising 
loyalty ;  nor  is  the  hereditary  glory  of  their  house  likely  to 
suffer  in  the  person  of  the  illustrious  youth,  who,  we  learn, 
is  now  to  be  raised  to  the  baronetcy,  under  the  title  of  Sir 
Thomas  Bubbleton  Burke,  the  second  name  assumed  to 

commemorate  theservices  of  Captain  Bubbleton,  whose ' 

Of  course  I  dilated  a  little  here  to  round  the  paragraph. 
Well,  this  did  it.  Here  was  the  shell  that  exploded  the 
magazine ;  for  early  this  morning  I  received  a  polite  note 
from  the  Castle ;  I  won't  tell  you  the  writer  though.  I 
like  a  good  bit  of  surprise ;  and,  egad,  now  I  think  on't, 
I  won't  say  anything  more  about  the  letter  either,  only 
that  we're  in  luck,  my  lad,  as  you'll  soon  acknowledge. 
What's  the  hour  now  ?  Ah !  a  quarter  to  twelve.  But 
wait,  I  think  I  hear  him  in  the  next  room ;  jump  up,  and 
dress  as  fast  as  you  can,  while  I  do  the  honours." 

With  this  the  Captain  bustled  out  of  the  room ;  and, 
although  he  banged  the  door  after  him,  I  could  hear  hia 
voice  in  the  act  of  welcoming  some  new  arrival. 

In  spite  of  the  sea  of  nonsense  and  absurdity  through 
which  I  had  waded  in  the  last  half-hour,  the  communica- 
tion he  had  made  me  excited  my  curiosity  to  the  utmost, 
and  in  some  respect  rendered  me  uneasy.  It  was  no  part 
whatever  of  my  object  to  afford  any  clue  to  Basset  by 
which  he  might  trace  me,  and,  although  much  of  the  fear 
I  had  formerly  entertained  of  that  dreaded  personage  had 
evaporated  with  increased  knowledge  of  the  world,  yet  old 
instincts  preserved  their  influence  over  me,  and  I  felt  as 
though  Tony  Basset  would  be  a  name  of  terror  to  me  for 
my  life  long.  It  was  quite  clear,  however,  that  the  appli- 
cation from  the  Castle  to  which  he  alluded  could  have  no 


AN   UNLOOKED-FOR   VISITOB. 

reference  to  the  honest  attorney ;  and  with  this  comforting 
reflection,  which  1  confess  came  somewhat  late,  I  finished 
my  dressing,  and  prepared  to  leave  my  room. 

"  Oh !  here  he  comes,"  cried  Bubbleton,  as  he  flung 
open  my  door,  and  announced  my  approach.  "  Come 
along,  Tom,  and  let  us  see  if  your  face  will  let  you  be 
recognized." 

I  scarcely  had  crossed  the  threshold  when  I  started 
back  with  affright,  and,  had  it  not  been  for  the  wall  against 
which  I  leaned,  must  have  fallen.  The  stranger,  whose 
visit  was  to  afford  me  so  much  of  pleasure  was  no  other 
than  Major  Barton ;  there  he  stood,  his  arm  leaning  on 
the  chimney-piece,  the  same  cool  malicious  smile  playing 
about  the  angles  of  his  mouth,  which  I  noticed  the  first 
day  I  saw  him  in  the  glen.  His  sharp  eyes  shot  on  me 
one  quick,  searching  glance,  and  then  turned  to  the  door, 
from  which  again  they  were  directed  to  me,  as  if  soma 
passing  thought  had  moved  them. 

Bubbleton  was  the  first  to  speak,  for,  not  noticing  either 
the  agitation  I  was  under  or  the  stern  expression  of 
Barton's  features,  he  ran  on  : — 

"Eh,  Major!  that's  your  friend — isn't  it?  Changed  a 
bit,  I  suppose — a  little  blanched  ;  but  in  a  good  cause, 
you  know, — that's  the  thing.  Come,  Tom,  you  don't 
forget  your  old  friend,  Major what's  the  name  ?  " 

"  Barton,"  repeated  the  other,  dryly. 

"  Yes,  Major  Barton ;  he's  come  from  his  Excellency. 
I  knew  that  last  paragraph  would  do  it — eh,  Major  ?  " 

"  You  were  quite  right,  sir,"  said  Barton,  slowly  and 
distinctly,  "  that  paragraph  did  do  it;  and  very  fortunate 
you  may  esteem  yourself,  if  it  will  not  do  you  also." 

"  Eh,  what !  how  met     What  d'you  mean  ?  " 

"  How  long,  may  I  beg  to  ask,"  continued  Barton,  in 
the  same  quiet  tone  of  voice,  "  have  you  known  this  young 
gentleman  ?  " 

"Burke — Tom  Burke ? — bless  your  heart,  since  the 
height  of  that  fender.  His  father  and  mine  were  school- 
fellows. I'm  not  sure  he  wasn't  my  godfather,  or,  at  least, 
one  of  them ;  I  had  four."  Here  the  Captain  began 
counting  on  his  fingers.  "  There  was  the  Moulah,  one ; 
the  Cham,  two " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  the  interruption,"  said  Barton, 


184  TOM   BUKKE    OF    "  OTJKS." 

with  affected  politeness  ;  "  how  long  has  he  occupied  these 
quarters  ?  That  fact  may  possibly  not  be  too  antiquated 
for  your  memory." 

"  How  long  ?  "  said  Bubbleton,  reflectingly.  "  Let  me 
see :  here  we  are  in  August " 

"  Three  weeks  on  Tuesday  last,"  said  I,  interfering,  to 
pi'event  any  farther  drain  on  so  lavish  an  imagination. 

"  Then  you  came  here  on  the  day  of  the  riots  ?  "  said 
Barton. 

"  On  that  evening,"  was  my  reply. 

"  On  that  evening — just  so.  Before  or  after,  may  I 
ask  ?  " 

"  I  shall  answer  no  further  questions,"  said  I,  resolutely. 
"  If  you  have  any  charge  against  me,  it  is  for  you  to 
prove  it." 

"  Charge  against  you ! "  said  Bubbleton,  laughing. 
"  Bless  your  heart,  boy,  don't  mistake  him ;  they've  sent 
him  down  to  compliment  you.  Lord  Castlereagh  mentions 
in  his  note — where  the  devil  did  I  throw  that  note  ?  " 

"  It's  of  no  consequence,  Captain,"  said  Barton,  dryly ; 
"  his  Lordship  usually  entrusts  the  management  of  these 
matters  to  me.  May  I  learn,  is  this  young  gentleman 
known  in  your  regiment  ?  Has  he  been  at  your  mess?  " 

"  Tom  Burke  known  among  us !  Why,  man,  he's 
called  nothing  but  '  Burke  of  Ours.'  He's  one  of  our- 
selves— not  gazetted,  you  know,  but  all  the  same,  in  fact. 
We  couldn't  get  on  without  him  ;  he's  like  the  mess-plate, 
or  the  orderly-book,  or  the  regimental  snuff-box." 

"  I'm  sincerely  sorry,  sir,"  rejoined  Barton,  slowly,  "  to 
rob  you  and  the  gallant  Forty-fifth  of  one  upon  whom 
you  place  such  just  value  ;  but  '  Burke  of  Ours'  must 
consent  to  be  Burke  of  mine  at  present." 

"  To  be  sure,  my  dear  Major,  of  course ;  anything  con- 
vivial— nothing  like  good  fellowship.  We'll  lend  him  to 
you  for  to-day — one  day,  mark  me — we  can't  spare  him 
longer ;  and,  now  I  think  of  it,  don't  press  him  with  his 
wine,  he's  been  poorly  of  late." 

"  Have  no  fears  on  that  score,"  said  Barton,  laughing 
outright ;  "  our  habits  of  life,  in  his  circumstances,  are 
rigidly  temperate."  Then,  turning  to  me,  he  continued, 
in  an  altered  voice,  "  1  need  scarcely  explain  to  you,  sir, 
the  reason  of  my  visit.  When  last  we  parted  I  did  not 


AN   UNLOOKED-FOK   VISITOB.  135 

anticipate  that  our  next  meeting  would  have  been  in  a 
royal  barrack  ;  but  you  may  thank  your  friend  here  for 
my  knowledge  of  your  abode- " 

Bubbleton  attempted  to  interpose  here  a  panegyric  on 
himself,  but  Barton  went  on, — 

"  Here  is  an  order  of  the  Privy  Council  for  your  appre- 
hension, and  here " 

"Apprehension!"  echoed  the  Captain,  in  a  voice  of 
•wonderment  and  terror. 

"  Here,  sir.  is  your  committal  to  Newgate.  I  suppose 
you'll  not  give  me  the  trouble  of  using  force ;  I  have  a 
carriage  in  waiting  below,  and  request  that  we  may  lose 
no  more  time." 

"  I  am  ready,  sir,"  said  I,  as  stoutly  as  I  was  able. 

"  To  Newgate ! "  repeated  Bnbbleton,  as,  overcome 
with  fright,  he  sank  back  in  a  chair,  and  crossed  his 
arms  on  his  breast.  "  Poor  fellow  !  poor  fellow  !  perhaps 
they'll  bring  it  in  manslaughter,  eh  ? — or  was  it  a  bank 
robbery  ?  " 

Not  even  the  misery  before  me  could  prevent  my  smiling 
at  the  worthy  Captain's  rapidly-conceived  narrative  of  me. 
I  was  in  no  merry  mood,  however;  and,  turning  to  him, 
grasped  his  hand. 

"  It  may  happen,"  said  I,  "  that  we  never  meet  again. 
I  know  not — indeed,  I  hardly  care — what  is  before  me ; 
but,  with  all  my  heart,  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness. 
Farewell." 

"  Farewell,"  said  he,  half  mechanically,  as  he  grasped 
my  hand  in  both  of  his,  and  the  large  tears  rolled  down 
his  cheeks.  "  Poor  fellow  !  all  my  fault — see  it  now." 

I  hurried  after  Barton  down  stairs,  a  nervous  choking 
in  my  throat  nearly  suffocating  me.  Just  as  I  reached  the 
door  the  carriage  drew  up,  and  a  policeman  let  down  the 
steps.  Already  my  foot  was  on  them,  when  Bubbletou 
was  beside  me. 

"  I'll  go  with  him,  Major ;  you'll  permit  me,  won't 
you  ?  " 

"  Not  at  present,  Captain,"  said  Barton,  significantly ; 
**  it  may  happen  that  we  shall  want  you,  one  of  these  days. 
Good-bye." 

He  pushed  me  forward  as  he  spoke,  and  entered  the 
carriage  after  me.  I  felt  the  pressure  of  poor  Bnbbleton'g 


136  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OUES." 

hand  as  he  grasped  mine  for  the  last,  time,  and  discovered 
he  had  slipped  something  into  my  palm  at  parting.  I 
opened  and  found  two  guineas  in  gold,  which  the  kind- 
hearted  fellow  had  given  me  j  perhaps  they  were  his  only 
ones  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   GAOL. 

FROM  the  moment  the  carriage-door  closed  upon  ns,  Bar- 
ton never  addressed  one  word  to  me,  but,  leaning  back, 
seemed  only  anxious  to  escape  being  recognized  by  the 
people,  whose  attention  was  drawn  to  the  vehicle  by  seeing 
two  mounted  policemen  ride  at  either  side  of  it.  We 
drove  along  the  quays,  and,  crossing  an  old,  dilapidated 
bridge,  traversed  several  obscure  and  mean-looking  streets, 
through  which  numbers  of  persons  were  hurrying  in  the 
same  direction  we  were  going.  At  length  we  arrived  at  a 
large  open  space,  thronged  with  people,  whose  dress  and 
appearance  bespoke  them  from  the  country.  They  were 
all  conversing  in  a  low,  murmuring  tone,  and  looking  up, 
from  time  to  time,  towards  a  massive  building  of  dark 
granite,  which  I  had  only  to  glance  at  to  guess  was  New- 
gate. Our  pace  slackened  to  a  walk  as  we  entered  the 
crowd ;  and  while  we  moved  slowly  along,  I  was  struck  by 
the  eager  and  excited  faces  I  saw  on  every  side.  It  could 
be  no  common  occasion  which  impressed  that  vast  multi- 
tude with  the  one  character  of  painful  anxiety  I  beheld. 
As  they  stood  gazing  with  npturned  faces  at  the  frowning 
portals  of  the  gaol,  the  deep,  solemn  tolling  of  a  bell  rung 
out  at  the  moment,  and  as  its  sad  notes  vibrated  through 
the  air,  it  seemed  to  strike  with  a  mournful  power  on  every 
heart  in  the  crowd.  In  an  instant,  too,  the  windows  of 
all  the  houses  were  thronged  with  eager  faces — even  the 


THE   GAOL.  187 

parapets  were  crowded — and,  while  every  sound  was 
hushed,  each  eye  was  turned  in  one  direction.  I  followed 
with  my  own  whither  the  others  were  bent,  and  beheld 
above  my  head  the  dark  framework  of  the  "  drop,"  covered 
with  black  cloth,  above  which  a  piece  of  rope  swung  back- 
wards and  forwards  with  the  wind.  The  narrow  door 
behind  was  closed  ;  but  it  was  clear  that  each  second  that 
stole  by  was  bringing  some  wretched  criminal  closer  to  his 
awful  doom. 

As  we  neared  the  entrance,  the  massive  doors  were 
opened  on  a  signal  from  a  policeman  on  the  box  of  the 
carriage,  and  we  drove  inside  the  gloomy  vestibule.  It 
was  only  then,  as  the  heavy  door  banged  behind  me,  that 
my  heart  sank.  Up  to  that  moment  a  mingled  sense  of 
wrong,  and  a  feeling  of  desperate  courage,  had  nerved  me  ; 
but  suddenly  a  cold  chill  ran  through  my  veins,  my  knees 
smote  each  other,  and  fear,  such  as  till  then  I  never  knew, 
crept  over  me.  The  carriage-door  was  now  opened,  the 
steps  lowered,  and  Barton  descending  first,  addressed  a 
few  words  to  a  person  near  him,  whom  he  called  Mr. 
Gregg. 

It  was  one  of  those  moments  in  life  in  which  every 
passing  look,  every  chance  word,  every  stir,  every  gesture, 
are  treasured  up,  and  remembered  ever  after :  and  I 
recollect  now  how,  as  I  stepped  from  the  carriage,  a 
feeling  of  shame  passed  across  me,  lest  the  bystanders 
should  mark  my  fear,  and  what  a  relief  I  experienced  on 
finding  that  my  presence  was  unnoticed ;  and  then  the 
instant  after,  that  very  same  neglect,  that  cold,  cold  indif- 
ference to  me,  smote  as  heavily  on  my  spirits,  and  I  looked 
on  myself  as  one  whose  fate  had  no  interest  for  any — in 
whose  fortune  none  sympathized. 

''  Drive  on ! "  cried  a  rough  voice  to  the  coachman  ;  and 
the  carriage  moved  through  the  narrow  passage,  in  which 
some  dozen  of  persons  were  now  standing.  The  next 
moment,  a  murmur  of  "  They  are  coming ! "  was  heard, 
and  the  solemn  tones  of  a  man's  voice  chanting  the  last 
offices  of  the  Romish  Church  reached  us,  with  the 
measured  footfall  of  persons  crossing  the  nagged  court- 
yard. In  the  backward  movement  now  made  by  those 
around  me,  I  was  brought  close  to  a  small  arched  doorway, 
within  which  a  night  of  stone  steps  ascended  in  a  spiral 


138  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

direction,  and  towards  this  point  I  remarked  that  the  per* 
sons  who  approached  were  tending.  My  eyes  scarcely 
glanced  on  those  who  came  first,  but  they  rested  with  a 
fearful  interest  on  the  bareheaded  priest,  who,  in  all  the 
trappings  of  his  office,  walked,  book  in  hand,  repeating 
with  mournful  impressiveness  the  litany  for  the  dead.  As 
he  came  nearer,  I  could  see  that  his  eyes  were  dimmed 
with  tears,  and  his  pale  lips  quivered  with  emotion,  while 
his  very  cheek  trembled  with  a  convulsive  agony.  Not  so 
he  who  followed.  He  was  a  young  man,  scarce  four-and- 
twenty,  dressed  in  loose  white  trousers  and  shirt,  but 
without  coat,  vest,  or  cravat ;  his  head  bare,  and  displaying 
a  broad  forehead,  across  which  some  straggling  hairs  of 
light  brown  were  blown  by  the  wind.  His  eye  was  bright 
and  flashing,  and  in  the  centre  of  his  pale  cheek  a  small 
crimson  spot  glowed  with  a  hectic  colouring.  His  step 
was  firm,  and  as  he  planted  it  upon  the  ground,  a  kind  of 
elasticity  seemed  to  mark  his  footfall.  He  endeavoured  to 
repeat  after  the  priest  the  words  as  they  fell  from  hi'ji ;  but 
as  he  looked  wildly  around,  it  was  clear  his  mind  was 
straying  from  the  subject  which  his  lips  expressed,  and 
that  thoughts  far  different  were  passing  within  him.  Sud- 
denly his  eyes  fell  upon  the  Major,  who  stood  close  to  where 
I  was.  The  man  started  back,  and  for  a  second  even  that 
small  spot  of  crimson  left  his  cheek,  which  \>ecame  nearly 
livid  in  its  pallor.  A  ghastly  smile,  that  showed  his  white 
teeth  from  side  to  side,  crossed  his  features,  and  with  a 
voice  of  terrible  earnestness,  he  said, — 

"  'Tis  easy  for  you  to  look  calm,  sir,  at  your  mornin's 
work,  and  I  hope  you're  plazed  at  it."  Then  frowning 
fearfully,  as  his  face  grew  purple,  he  added,  "  But,  by  the 
Eternal !  you'd  not  look  that  way  av  we  two  stood  by 
ourselves  on  the  side  of  Sliebmish,  and  nothing  but  our 
own  four  arms  between  us." 

The  horrible  expression  of  vengeance  that  lit  up  his 
savage  face  at  these  words  seemed  to  awe  even  the  cal- 
lous and  stern  nature  of  Barton  himself.  All  his  efforts 
to  seem  calm  and  at  ease  were  for  the  moment  un- 
availing, and  he  shrank  from  the  proud  and  flashing  eye 
of  the  felon,  as  though  he  were  the  guilty  one  in  the 
presence  of  his  accuser. 

Another  stroke  of  the  heavy  bell  rang  out;  the  pri« 


THE    GAOL.  189 

Boner  started,  and,  turning  round  his  head,  seemed  to 
peer  anxiously  through  the  crowd  behind  him,  when  his 
eyes  fell  upon  the  figure  of  a  man  apparently  a  year  or 
two  younger  than  himself,  and  whose  features,  even  in 
their  livid  colouring,  bore  a  striking  resemblance  to  his  own. 

"  Come,  Patsey,"  cried  he — "  come  along  with  us."  Then 
turning  to  the  gaoler,  while  his  face  assumed  a  smile, 
and  his  voice  a  tone  of  winning  softness,  he  added,  "  It  is 
my  brother,  sir ;  he  is  come  up  nigh  eighty  miles  to  see 
me,  and  I  hope  you'll  let  him  come  upon  the  drop." 

There  was  something  in  the  quiet  earnestness  of  his 
manner  in  such  a  moment  that  thrilled  upon  the  heart 
more  painfully  than  even  the  violent  outbreak  of  his  pas- 
sion ;  and  when  I  saw  the  two  brothers  hand  in  hand, 
march  step  by  step  along,  and  then  disappear  in  the  wind- 
ing of  the  dark  stair,  a  sick,  cold  feeling  came  over 
me,  and  even  the  loud  shout  that  rent  the  air  from  the 
assembled  thousands  without  scarce  roused  me  from  my 
stupor. 

"  Come,  sir,"  cried  a  man,  who  in  the  dress  of  an  official 
had  been  for  some  minutes  carefully  reading  over  the 
document  of  my  committal,  "  after  me,  if  you  please." 

I  followed  him  across  the  courtyard  in  the  direction  of 
a  small  building  which  stood  isolated  and  apart  from  the 
rest,  when  suddenly  he  stopped,  and  carefully  examining 
the  paper  in  his  hand,  he  said, — 

"  Wait  a  moment,  I'll  join  you  presently." 

With  these  words,  he  hurried  back  towards  the  gate, 
where  Barton  still  stood  with  two  or  three  others.  What 
passed  between  them  I  could  not  hear,  but  I  could  dis- 
tinctly mark  that  Barton's  manner  was  more  abrupt  and 
imperious  than  ever ;  and  that  while  the  gaoler — for  such 
he  was — expressed  his  scruples  of  one  kind  or  another, 
the  Major  would  not  hear  him  with  patience,  but,  turning 
Lis  back  upon  him,  called  out  loud  enough  to  be  heard 
even  where  I  stood, — • 

"  i  tell  you  I  don't  care — regular  or  irregular — if  you 
refuse  to  take  him  in  charge,  on  your  head  be  it.  We 
have  come  to  a  pretty  pass,  Pollock,"  said  he,  turning  to 
a  person  beside  him,  "  when  there  is  more  sympathy  for 
a  rebel  in  his  Majesty's  gaol,  than  respect  for  a  Govern- 
meni  officer." 


140  TOM  BURKE   OF   "  OUBS." 

"  I'll  do  it,  sir — I'll  do  it,"  cried  the  gaoler ;  saying 
which  he  motioned  me  to  follow,  while  he  muttered  be- 
tween his  teeth,  "  there  must  come  an  end  to  this,  one 
day  or  other." 

With  that  he  unlocked  a  strongly  barred  gate,  and  led 
me  along  a  narrow  passage,  at  the  extremity  of  which  he 
opened  a  door  into  a  small  and  rather  comfortably  fur- 
nished room. 

"  Here,  sir,"  said  he,  "  youll  be  better  than  where  I 
have  my  orders  to  put  you,  arid,  in  any  case,  I  trust  that 
our  acquaintance  will  be  but  a  short  one." 

These  were  the  first  words  of  kindness  I  had  heard  for 
some  time  past.  I  turned  to  thank  the  speaker,  but 
already  the  door  had  closed,  and  he  was  gone. 

The  quickly  succeeding  incidents  of  my  life — the  dark 
destiny  that  seemed  to  track  me — had  given  a  reflective 
character  to  my  mind  while  I  was  yet  a  boy.  The  troubles 
and  cares  of  life,  that  in  manhood  serve  only  to  mould  and 
fashion  character,  to  call  forth  efforts  of  endurance,  of 
courage,  or  ability,  come  upon  us  in  early  years  with  far 
different  effect  and  far  different  teaching.  Every  lesson  of 
deceit  and  duplicity  is  a  direct  shock  to  some  preconceived 
notion  of  faith  and  honour;  every  punishment,  whose 
severity  in  after  years  we  had  forgotten  in  its  justice,  has  to 
the  eyes  of  youth  a  character  of  vindictive  cruelty.  Looking 
only  to  effects,  and  never  to  causes,  our  views  of  life  are 
one-sided  and  imperfect ;  the  better  parts  of  our  nature 
will  as  often  mislead  us  by  false  sympathy,  as  will  the 
worst  ones  by  their  pernicious  tendency. 

From  the  hour  I  quitted  my  father's  house  to  the 
present,  I  had  seen  nothing  but  what  to  me  appeared 
the  sufferings  of  a  poor,  defenceless  people  at  the  han'ia 
of  wanton  tyranny  and  outrage.  I  had  seen  the  peasant's 
cabin  burned  because  it  had  been  a  shelter  to  an  outcast. 
I  had  heard  the  loua  and  drunken  denunciations  of  a 
ruffianly  soldiery  against  those  who  professed  no  other 
object,  who  acknowledged  no  other  wish,  than  liberty  and 
equality ;  and  in  my  heart  I  vowed  a  rooted  hate  to  the 
enemies  of  my  country — a  vow  that  lost  nothing  of  its 
bitterness  because  it  was  made  within  the  walls  of  a 
prison. 

In  reflections  like  these  my  evening  passed  on,  and  with 


THE    GAOti.  141 

it  the  greater  part  of  the  night  also.  My  mind  was  too 
much  excited  to  permit  me  to  sleep,  and  I  longed  for  day- 
break with  that  craving .  impatience  which  sick  men  feel, 
who  count  the  long  hours  of  darkness,  and  think  the  morn- 
ing must  bring  relief.  It  came  at  last,  and  the  heavy, 
clanking  sounds  of  massive  doors  opening  and  shutting — 
the  mournful  echoes  that  told  of  captivity  and  durance — 
sighed  along  the  corridors,  and  then  all  was  still. 

There  is  a  time  in  reverie  when  silence  seems  not  to 
encourage  thought,  but  rather,  like  some  lowering  cloud, 
to  hang  over  and  spread  a  gloomy  insensibility  around  us. 
Long  watching  and  much  thinking  had  brought  me  now 
to  this,  and  I  sat  looking  upon  the  faint  streak  of  sunlight 
that  streamed  through  the  barred  window,  and  speculating 
within  myself  when  it  would  fall  upon  the  hearth.  Sud- 
denly I  heard  the  sound  of  footsteps  in  the  corridor ;  my 
door  was  opened,  and  the  gaoler  entered,  followed  by  a 
man  carrying  my  breakfast. 

"  Come,  sir,"  said  the  former,  "  I  hope  you  have  got  an 
appetite  for  our  prison  fare.  Lose  no  time,  for  there  is  a 
carriage  in  waiting  to  bring  you  to  the  Castle,  and  the 
Major  himself  is  without." 

"  I  am  ready  this  moment,''  said  I,  starting  up,  and 
taking  my  hat ;  and  notwithstanding  every  entreaty  to  eat, 
made  with  kindness  and  good-nature,  I  refused  everything, 
and  followed  him  out  into  the  courtyard,  where  Barton 
was  pacing  up  and  down,  impatiently  awaiting  our 
coming. 


142  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  CUES.* 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE   CASTLK. 

SCARCELY  had  the  carriage  driven  from  the  gloomy  portal? 
of  the  gaol,  and  entered  one  of  the  long,  straggling  streets 
that  led  towards  the  river,  when  I  noticed  a  singular-look- 
ing figure  who  ran  alongside,  and  kept  up  with  us  as  we 
went.  A  true  type  of  the  raggedness  of  old  Dublin,  his 
clothes  fluttered  behind  him  like  ribbons ;  even  from  his 
hat,  his  long,  red  hair  straggled  and  streamed,  while  his 
nether  garments  displayed  a  patchwork  no  tartan  could  vie 
with ;  his  legs  were  bare,  save  where  a  single  top-boot 
defended  one  of  them,  the  other  was  naked  to  the  foot,  clad 
in  an  old  morocco  slipper,  which  he  kicked  up  and  caught 
again  as  he  went  with  surprising  dexterity,  accompanying 
the  feat  with  a  wild  yell  which  might  have  shamed  a  war- 
whoop  ;  he  carried  a  bundle  of  printed  papers  over  one 
arm,  and  flourished  one  of  them  in  his  right  hand,  vocif- 
erating something  all  the  while  with  uncommon  energy. 
Scarcely  had  the  carriage  drawn  up  at  the  door  of  an  old- 
fashioned  brick  building  when  he  was  beside  it. 

"How  are  ye,  Major?  How  is  every  bit  of  you,  sir? 
Are  ye  taking  them  this  mornin'  ? — 'tis  yourself  knows 
how  !  Buy  a  ha'porth,  sir." 

"  What  have  you  got  to-day,  Toby  ?  "  said  the  Major, 
with  a  greater  degree  of  complacency  in  his  manner  than 
I  had  ever  noticed  before. 

"  An  illigant  new  song  about  Buck  Whaley  ;  or,  maybe, 
you'd  like  '  Beresford's  Jig  ;  or,  the  Humours  of  Malbro* 
Green.' " 

"  Why,  man,  they're  old  these  three  weeks." 

"  True  for  ye,  Major.  Begorra  !  there's  no  chating  you 
at  all,  at  all.  Well,  maybe  you'll  have  this.  Here's  the 
bloody  and  cruel  outrage  committed  by  the  yeomen  on  the 
body  of  a  dacent  and  respectable  young  man,  by  the  name 
•f  Darby  M'Keown,  with  the  full  and  true  account  of  how 


THE   CASTLE.  148 

he  was  inhumanly  stabbed  and  murdered  on  the  8th  day  ol 
July " 

"  Ay,  give  me  that ;  I  hope  they've  done  for  that 
scoundrel ;  I  have  been  on  his  track  three  years." 

The  fellow  drew  near,  and,  as  he  handed  the  paper  to 
the  Major,  contrived  to  approach  close  to  where  I  stood. 
"  Buy  one,  master,"  said  he  ;  and,  as  he  spoke,  he  turned 
completely  round,  so  as  only  to  be  observed  by  myself, 
and  as  suddenly  the  whole  expression  of  his  vacant  features 
changed  like  magic,  and  I  saw  before  me  the  well-known 
face  of  Darby  himself. 

"  Did  you  get  an  answer  to  that  for  me,  Toby  ?  "  said 
the  Major. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  here  it  is."  And  with  that  he  pulled  off  hie 
tattered  hat,  and  withdrew  a  letter  which  lay  concealed 
within  the  lining.  "  'Tis  sixpence  you  ought  to  be  afther 
givin'  me  this  mornin',  Major,"  continued  he,  in  an  in- 
sinuating tone  of  voice  ;  "  the  devil  a  less  than  twenty-one 
mile  it  is  out  of  this,  not  to  spake  of  the  danger  I  run,  and 
the  boys  out  on  every  side  o'  me." 

"  And  what's  the  news  up  the  country,  Toby  ?  "  asked 
the  Major,  as  he  broke  the  seal  of  the  letter. 

"  'Tis  talking  of  a  risin'  they  do  be  still,  sir — av  the 
praties  was  in  ;  glory  be  to  God,  they  say  it  '11  be  a  great 
sayson.'' 

"  For  which,  Toby — the  crops  or  the  croppies  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Toby,  with  a  most  provoking  look  of 
idiocy.  "And  you  won't  buy  Darby,  sir?"  rejoined  he, 
flourishing  the  printed  placard.  "  No  matter  ;  here's  the 

whole,  full,  thrue,  and  particular  account "  And  so 

he  turned  the  angle  of  the  building,  and  I  could  hear  his 
voice  mingling  with  the  street  noises  as  he  wended  his  way 
down  Dame  Street.  The  Major  looked  after  him  and 
smiled,  and  brief  as  was  that  smile,  I  saw  in  it  how 
thoroughly  he  was  dupea. 

"  Come,  sir,  follow  me,  if  you  please,"  said  he,  ad- 
dressing me. 

I  mounted  a  flight  of  old  and  neglected  stairs,  and 
entered  an  anteroom,  where,  having  waited  for  a  few 
seconds,  the  Major  whispered  an  order  to  the  porter,  and 
passed  on  to  the  inner  roomj  leaving  me  behind. 

As  Major  Barton  passed  out  by  one  door,  the  porter 


144  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OTTOS.** 

tarried  the  key  in  the  other,  and,  placing  it  in  his  pocket, 
drew  his  chair  to  the  window  and  resumed  the  newspaper 
he  was  reading  when  we  entered.  How  long  I  waited  I 
cannot  say.  My  thoughts,  though  sad  ones,  chased  each 
other  rapidly,  and  I  felt  not  the  time  as  it  passed.  Sud- 
denly the  door  opened,  and  I  heard  my  name  called.  I 
drew  a  deep  breath,  like  one  who  felt  his  fate  was  in  the 
balance,  and  entered. 

The  room,  which  was  plainly  furnished,  seemed  to  serve 
as  an  office.  The  green-covered  table  that  stood  in  the 
middle  was  littered  with  letters  and  papers,  among  which 
a  large,  heavy-browed,  dark-featured  man  was  searching 
busily  as  I  came  in.  Behind,  and  partly  beside  him, 
stood  Barton,  in  an  attitude  of  respectful  attention,  while, 
with  his  back  to  the  fire,  was  a  third  person,  whose  age 
might  have  been  from  thirty-five  to  forty.  His  dress  was 
in  the  perfection  of  the  mode,  his  top-boots  reaching  to 
the  middle  of  his  leg  ;  his  coat,  of  the  lightest  shade  of 
sky-blue,  was  lined  with  white  silk;  and  two  watch-chains 
hung  down  beneath  his  buff  waistcoat,  in  the  acme  of  the 
then  fashion.  His  features  were  frank  and  handsome, 
and,  saving  a  dash  of  puppyism  that  gave  a  character  of 
weakness  to  the  expression,  I  should  deem  him  a  manly, 
fine-looking  fellow. 

"  So  this  is  your  '  Eobespierre ! '  Major,  is  it  ?  "  cried 
he,  bursting  into  a  laugh,  as  I  appeared. 

Barton  approached  nearer  to  him,  and  muttered  some- 
thing in  a  low,  mumbling  tone,  to  which  the  other  seemed 
to  pay  little,  if  any  attention. 

"  Yon  are  here,  sir,"  said  the  dark-featured  man  at  the 
table,  holding  in  his  hand  a  paper  as  he  spoke — "  you  are 
here,  under  a  warrant  of  the  Privy  Council,  charging  you 
with  holding  intercourse  with  that  rebellious  and  ill-fated 
faction  who  seek  to  disturb  the  peace  and  welfare  of  this 
country — disseminating  dangerous  and  wicked  doctrines, 

and  being  in  'alliance  with  France — with  France 

What's  that  word,  Barton?— to " 

"  In  two  words,  yonng  gentleman,"  said  the  young 
man  at  the  fire,  "  you  are  charged  with  keeping  very  bad 
company — learning  exceedingly  unprofitable  notions,  and 
incurring  very  considerable  present  risk.  Now  I  am 
mot  disposed  to  think  that  at  your  age,  and  with  your 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE 
Leve> — I'olume   Twenty-eight 


THE    CASTLE.  145 

respectable  connections,  either  the  cause  or  its  associates 
can  have  taken  a  very  strong  hold  of  your  mind.  I  am 
sure  that  you  must  have  received  your  impressions,  such 
as  they  are,  from  artful  and  designing  persons,  who  had 
only  their  own  ends  in  view  when  involving  you  in  their 
plots.  If  I  am  justified  in  this  opinion,  and  if  you  will 
pledge  me  your  honour " 

"  I  say,  Cooke,  you  can't  do  this.  The  warrant  sets 
forth » 

"  Well,  well,  we'll  admit  him  to  bail." 

"  It  is  not  bailable,  Right  Honourable,"  said  Barton, 
addressing  the  large  man  at  the  table. 

"  Phelan,"  said  the  younger  man,  turning  away  in 
pique,  "  we  really  have  matters  of  more  importance  than 
this  boy's  case  to  look  after." 

"  Boy  as  ti«  is,  sir,"  said  Barton,  obsequiously,  "  he 
was  in  the  fuv'  Confidence  of  that  notorious  French  cap- 
tain for  whose  'apture  you  offered  a  reward  of  one 
thousand  pounds." 

"  Yon  like  to  run  your  fox  to  earth,  Barton,"  replied 
the  Under-Secretary,  calmly,  for  it  was  he  who  spoke. 

"  In  alliance  with  France,"  continued  the  dark  man, 
reading  from  the  paper,  over  which  he  continued  to  pore 
ever  since,  "  for  the  propagation — ay,  that's  it — the  pro- 
pagation of  democratic " 

"  Come,  come,  Browne,  never  mind  the  warrant ;  if  he 
can  find  bail — say  five  hundred  pounds — for  his  future 
appearance,  we  shall  be  satisfied." 

Browne,  who  never  took  his  eyes  from  the  paper,  and 
seemed  totally  insensible  to  everything  but  the  current  of 
his  own  thoughts,  now  looked  up,  and,  fixing  his  dark 
and  beetling  look  upon  me,  uttered  in  a  deep,  low  tone, — 

"  You  see,  sir,  the  imminent  danger  of  your  present 
position,  and  at  the  same  time  the  merciful  leniency 
which  has  always  characterized  His  Majesty's  Govern- 
ment—ahem !  If,  therefore,  you  will  plead  guilty  to  any 
transportable  felony,  the  grand  jury  will  find  true  bills " 

"  You  mistake,  Browne,"  said  Cooke,  endeavouring 
with  his  handkerchief  to  repress  a  burst  of  laughter,  "  we 
are  going  to  take  his  bail." 

"  Bail ! "  said  the  other,  in  a  voice  and  with  a  look  of 
amazement  absolutely  comic. 

\ 


146  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

Up  to  this  moment  I  had  not  broken  silence,  but  I  was 
unable  to  remain  longer  without  speaking. 

"  I  am  quite  ready,  sir,"  said  I,  resolutely,  "  to  stand 
my  trial  for  anything  laid  to  my  charge.  I  am  neither 
ashamed  of  the  opinions  I  profess,  nor  afraid  of  the  dan- 
gers they  involve.' 

"  You  hear  him,  sir,  you  hear  him,"  said  Barton, 
triumphantly,  turning  towards  the  Secretary,  who  bit  his 
lip  in  disappointment,  and  frowned  on  me  with  a  mingled 
expression  of  anger  and  warning.  "  Let  him  only  pro- 
ceed, and  you'll  be  quite  satisfied,  on  his  own  showing, 
that  he  cannot  be  admitted  to  bail." 

"  Bail ! "  echoed  the  Right  Honourable,  whose  faculties 
seemed  to  have  stuck  fast  in  the  mud  of  thought,  and 
were  totally  unable  to  extricate  themselves. 

At  the  same  moment,  a  gentle  tap  was  heard  at  the  door, 
and  the  porter  entered  with  a  card,  which  he  delivered  to 
the  Secretary. 

"Let  him  wait,"  was  the  brief  reply,  as  he  threw  his 
eyes  over  it.  "  Captain  Bubbleton,"  muttered  he,  between 
his  teeth.  "  Don't  know  him." 

I  started  at  the  name,  and  felt  my  cheek  flush  ;  he  saw 
it  at  once. 

"  You  know  this  gentleman,  then  ?"  said  he,  mildly. 

"Yes ;  to  his  humanity  I  am  indebted  for  my  life." 

"  I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  show,  sir,"  said  Barton,  in- 
terposing, "  that  through  this  Burke's  instrumentality  a 
very  deep  scheme  of  disaffection  is  at  this  moment  in 
operation  among  the  troops  in  garrison.  It  was  in  the 
barrack  at  George's  Street  that  I  apprehended  him." 

'*You  may  withdraw,  sir,"  said  the  Secretary,  turning 
towards  me.  "Let  Captain  Bubbleton  come  in." 

As  I  left  the  room,  the  burly  Captain  entered ;  but  so 
flurried  and  excited  was  he,  that  he  never  perceived  me,  as 
we  passed  each  other. 

I  had  not  been  many  minutes  in  the  outer  room  when 
a  loud  laugh  attracted  me,  in  which  I  could  distinctly 
recognize  the  merry  cadence  of  my  friend  Bubbleton;  and 
shortly  after  the1  door  was  opened,  and  I  was  desired  to 
enter. 

"  Yon  distinctly  understand,  then,  Captain  Bubbleton," 
Buid  Mr.  Cooke,  "  that  in  accepting  the  bail  in  this  case,  I 


THE    CASTLE.  147 

I  am  assuming  a  responsibility  which  may  involve  me  in 
trouble  ?" 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  muttered  Barton,  between  his 
teeth. 

"  We  shall  require  two  sureties  of  five  hundred  pounds 
each." 

"Take  the  whole  myself,  by  Jove!"  broke  in  Bubble- 
ton,  with  a  flourish  of  his  hand.  "  In  for  a  penny — eh, 
Tom  ?" 

"  You  can't  do  that,  sir,"  interposed  Barton. 

The  Secretary  nodded  an  assent,  and  for  a  moment  or 
two  Bubbleton  looked  nonplused. 

"  You'll  of  course  have  little  difficulty  as  to  a  co- surety,'* 
continued  Barton,  with  a  grin.  "  Burke  of  '  Ours'  is  suffi- 
ciently popular  in  the  Forty-fifth  to  make  it  an  easy 
matter." 

"  True,"  cried  Bubbleton,  "  quite  true  ;  but  in  a  thing 
of  this  kind,  every  fellow  will  be  so  deuced  anxious  to 
come  forward — a  kind  of  military  feeling,  you  know." 

"  I  understand  it  perfectly,"  said  Cooke,  with  a  polite 
bow  ;  "  although  a  civilian,  I  think  I  can  estimate  the 
esprit  de  corps  you  speak  of." 

"Nothing  like  it,  nothing  like  it,  by  Jove!  I'll  just 
tell  you  a  story — a  little  anecdote  in  point.  When  we 
were  in  the  Neelgharries,  there  was  a  tiger  devilish  fond 
of  one  of  ours.  Some  way  or  other,  Forbes — that  was  his 
name " 

"  The  tiger's  ?" 

"No!  the  captain's.  Forbes  had  a  devilish  insinuating 
way  with  him — women  always  liked  him — and  this  tiger 
used  to  come  in  after  mess,  and  walk  round  where  he  was 
sitting,  and  Forbes  used  to  give  him  his  dinner,  just  aa 
you  might  a  dog " 

The  castle  clock  struck  three  just  at  this  moment ;  the 
Secretary  started  up. 

"  My  dear  Captain,"  cried  he,  putting  his  hand  on 
Bubbleton's  arm,  "  I  never  was  so  sorry  in  my  life  ;  but  I 
must  hurry  away  to  the  Privy  Council.  I  shall  be  here, 
however,  at  four ;  and  if  you  will  meet  me  at  that  time 
with  the  other  security,  we  can  arrange  this  little  matter 
at  once."  So  saying,  he  seized  his  hat,  bowed  politely 
round  the  room,  and  left  us. 


148  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS.1* 

"  Come  along,  Tom,"  cried  Bubbleton,  taking  me  by  th« 
arm ;  "  devilish  good  fellow  that ;  knew  I'd  tickle  him 
with  the  tiger ;  nothing  to  what  I  could  have  told  him, 
however,  if  he  had  waited." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Barton,  interposing 
between  us  and  the  door,  "  Mr.  Burke  is  in  custody  until 
the  formality  at  least  of  a  bail  be  gone  through." 

"  So  he  is,"  said  Bubbleton  ;  "  I  forgot  all  about  it.  So 
good-bye,  Tom,  for  half  an  hour ;  I'll  not  be  longer,  depend 
on  it." 

With  this  he  shook  me  warmly  by  the  hand,  bustled  out 
of  the  room,  and  hurried  downstairs,  humming  a  tune  as 
he  went,  apparently  in  capital  spirits,  while  I  knew  from 
his  manner  that  the  bail  he  was  in  search,  of  had  about  as 
much  existence  as  the  tiger  in  the  Neelgharries. 

"  You  can  wait  in  this  room,  sir,"  said  Barton,  opening 
the  door  of  a  small  apartment  which  had  no  other  exit 
save  through  this  office. 

I  sat  down  in  silence  and  in  sorrow  of  heart,  to  specu- 
late, as  well  as  I  was  able,  on  the  consequences  of  my  mis- 
fortune. I  knew  enough  of  Bubbleton  to  be  certain  that 
all  chance  of  assistance  in  that  quarter  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion— the  only  source  be  could  draw  upon  being  his  inven- 
tion— the  only  wealth  he  possessed  the  riches  of  his  imagi- 
nation— which  had,  however,  this  advantage  over  any 
other  species  of  property  I  ever  heard  of — the  more  he 
squandered  it,  the  more  affluent  did  he  become.  Time 
wore  on  ;  the  clock  struck  four ;  and  yet  no  appearance  of 
Bubbleton.  Another  hour  rolled  by — no  one  came  near 
me,  and  at  length,  from  the  perfect  stillness  without,  I  be- 
lieved they  had  forgotten  me. 


149 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


Sn  o'clock,  seven,  and  even  eight  struck,  and  yet  no  one 
catae.  The  monotonous  tread  of  the  sentry  on  guard  at 
the  Castle-gate,  and  the  occasional  challenge  to  some 
passing  stranger,  were  the  only  sounds  I  heard  above  the 
distant  hum  of  the  city,  which  grew  fainter  gradually  as 
evening  fell.  At  last  I  heard  the  sound  of  a  key  moving 
in  a  lock,  the  bang  of  a  door,  and  then  came  the  noise  of 
many  voices,  as  the  footsteps  mounted  the  stairs,  amid 
which  Bubbleton's  was  pre-eminently  loud.  The  party 
entered  the  room  next  to  where  I  sat,  and,  from  the  tones, 
I  could  collect  that  Major  Barton  and  Mr.  Cooke  were  of 
the  number.  Another  there  was,  too,  whose  voice  was 
not  absolutely  new  or  strange  to  my  ears,  though  I  could 
not  possibly  charge  my  memory  where  I  had  heard  it 
before. 

While  I  was  thus  musing,  the  door  opened  noiselessly, 
and  Bubbleton  entering  without  a  word,  closed  it  behind 
him,  and  approached  me  on  tiptoe. 

"  All  right,  my  boy ;  they're  doing  the  needful  outside ; 
ready  in  ten  minutes  ;  never  was  such  a  piece  of  fortune  ; 
found  out  a  glorious  fellow ;  heard  of  him  from  Hicks, 
the  money-lender  ;  he'll  go  security  to  any  amount ;  knows 
your  family  well;  knew  your  father,  grandfather,  I  believe; 
delighted  to  meet  you ;  says  he'd  rather  see  you  than  fifty 
pounds !  " 

"  Who  is  he,  for  Heaven's  sake  ?  "  said  I,  impatiently  ; 
for  it  was  a  new  thing  to  me  to  receive  anything  like 
kindness  on  the  score  of  my  father's  memory. 

"  Eh  !  who  is  he  ?  He's  a  kind  of  a  bill-broking,  mort- 
gaging, bail-giving,  devilish  good  sort  of  fellow.  I've  a 
notion  he'd  do  a  bit  of  something  at  three  months." 

"  But  his  name — what's  he  called  ?  " 

"  His  name  is — let  me  see — his  name  is •     But  who 

Vol.  28— (6) 


150  TOU   BDBKE   OF   "  OURS." 

cares  for  his  name  ?  He  can  write  it,  I  suppose,  on  a 
stamp,  my  boy — that's  the  mark.  Bless  your  heart,  I 
only  spoil  a  stamp  when  I  put  my  autograph  across  it— it 
would  be  worth  prime  cost  till  then.  What  a  glorious 
thing  is  youth — unfledged,  unblemished  youth — to  possess 
a  name  new  to  the  Jews — a  reputation  against  which  no 
one  has  '  protested  ! '  Tom  Burke,  my  boy,  I  envy  you. 
Now,  when  I  write  George  Frederick  Augustus  Bubbletou 
on  any  bill,  warrant,  or  quittance,  straightway  there's  a 
grin  around  the  circle — a  kind  of  a  d — d  impertinent  sort 
of  a  half-civil  smile,  as  though  to  say  '  nulla  bona,'  pay- 
able nowhere.  But  hold  !  that  was  a  tap  at  the  door — oh, 
they  want  us." 

So  saying,  the  Captain  opened  the  door  and  introduced 
me. 

"  I  say,  Tom,"  cried  he,  "  come  here,  and  thank  our 
kind  friend,  Mr. Mr. " 

"  Mr  Basset,"  said  I,  starting  back,  as  my  eyes  beheld 
the  pale,  sarcastic  features  of  the  worthy  attorney,  who 
stood  at  the  table,  conversing  in  a  low  tone  with  the 
Under- Secretary. 

"  Eh  !  what's  the  matter?"  whispered  Bubbleton,  as  he 
saw  my  colour  come  and  go,  and  perceived  that  I  leaned 
on  a  chair  for  support.  *'  What  the  devil's  wrong  now  ?  " 

"  You've  betrayed  me  to  my  greatest  enemy,"  said  I,  in 
a  low,  distinct  voice. 

"  Eh !  what  ? — why,  you  seem  to  have  nothing  but  foes 
in  the  world.  Confound  it,  that's  always  my  luck — my 
infernal  good-nature  is  everlastingly  making  a  wrong 
plunge." 

"  In  that  case,  if  I  understand  the  matter  aright,  the 
bail  is  unnecessary,"  said  Mr.  Cooke,  addressing  Basset, 
who  never  turned  his  head  to  the  part  of  the  room  where 
we  stood. 

"  No,  sir,  it  is  not  necessary.  While  the  law  assists  me 
to  resume  my  guardianship  of  this  young  gentleman,  I 
am  answerable  for  his  appearance." 

"  The  indentures  are  quite  correct,"  said  Barton,  as  he 
laid  the  papers  on  the  table,  "as  I  believe  Mr.  Basset's 
statement  to  be  also," 

"  No  bail  necessary,"  interrupted  Bubbleton,  rubbing 
his  hands  pleasantly,  "  so  much  the  better.  Wish  them 


THE    BAIL.  151 

good  evening,  Tom,  my  hearty ;  we  shall  be  back  in  time 
for  supper.  You  wouldn't  take  au  oyster,  Mr.  Cooke  ?  " 

"  I  thank  you  very  much,  but  I  am  unfortunatel) 
engaged." 

"  Not  so  fast,  Captain,  1  Deg  you,"  said  Basset,  with  a 
most  servile  but  malignant  expression  in  his  features. 
"  The  habits  I  would  inculcate  to  my  apprentice  are 
not  exactly  consistent  with  mess-parties  and  barrack- 
Buppers." 

"  Apprentice  !  apprentice  !  "  said  Bubbleton,  starting  as 
if  stung  by  a  wasp.  "  Eh  !  you're  surely  not — not  the— 
the " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  there's  the  indenture,  signed  and  sealed,  if 
you  are  desirous  to  satisfy  yourself.  The  young  gentleman 
himself  will  not  deny  his  father's  instructions  concerning 
him." 

I  hung  down  my  head,  abashed  and  ashamed.  The 
tears  started  to  my  eyes  ;  I  turned  away  to  wipe  them,  and 
feared  to  face  the  others  again ;  I  saw  that  Bubbleton,  my 
only  friend,  believed  I  had  practised  some  deceit  on  him — 
and  how  to  explain,  without  disclosing  what  I  dare  not ! 
There  was  a  bustle  in  the  room — a  sound  of  voices — the 
noise  of  feet  descending  the  stairs ;  and  when  I  again 
looked  round,  they  were  all  gone,  save  Basset,  who  was 
leisurely  collecting  his  papers  together,  and  fastening 
them  with  a  string.  I  turned  my  eyes  everywhere,  to  see 
if  Bubbleton  had  not  remained.  But  no,  he  had  left  me 
like  the  rest,  and  I  was  alone  with  the  man  I  most  dreaded 
and  disliked  of  all  the  world. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Basset,  as  he  thrust  the  papers  into 
the  pocket  of  his  greatcoat,  "  I'm  ready  now." 

"  Where  to,  sir?"  replied  I,  sternly,  as  he  moved  to 
leave  the  room ;  for,  without  thinking  of  how  and  why  I 
was  to  succeed  in  it,  a  vague  resolution  of  defiance  flitted 
through  my  mind. 

"  To  my  house,  sir,  or  to  Newgate,  if  you  prefer  it. 
Don't  mistake,  young  gentleman,  for  a  moment,  the  posi- 
tion you  occupy — you  owe  your  liberation  at  this  moment 
not  to  any  merits  of  your  own.  Your  connection  with  the 
disaffected  and  rebellious  body  is  well  known  :  my  interest 
with  the  Government  is  your  only  protection.  Again,  sir, 
let  me  add,  that  T  have  no  peculiar  desire  for  your  com- 


152  TOM   BUKKB   OF   "  OUBS." 

pany  in  my  family ;  neither  the  habits  nor  the  opinions 
yon  have  acquired  -will  suit  those  you'll  meet  there." 

"  Why,  then,  have  you  interfered  with  me  ?  "  said  I, 
passionately.  "  Why  not  have  left  me  to  my  fate  ?  Be  it 
•what  it  might,  it  would  have  been  not  less  acceptable,  I 
assure  you,  than  to  become  an  inmate  of  your  house." 

"  That  question  were  very  easily  answered,"  said  he, 
interrupting  me. 

"  Then,  why  not  do  so  ?  " 

"  Come,  come,  sir,  these  are  not  the  terms  which  are  to 
subsist  between  us,  nor  is  this  the  place  to  discuss  our 
difference.  Follow  me." 

He  led  the  way  downstairs  as  he  spoke,  and,  taking  my 
arm  within  his,  turned  into  the  street.  Without  a  word 
on  either  side  we  proceeded  down  Parliament  Street, 
and,  crossing  Essex  Bridge,  followed  the  quays  for  some 
time,  then  turning  into  Stafford  Street,  we  arrived  at  a 
house,  when  having  taken  a  latch-key  from  his  pocket, 
Basset  opened  the  door  and  ushered  me  in,  muttering  half 
aloud  as  he  turned  the  key  in  the  lock,  and  fastened  the 
bolt,  '*  Safe  at  last."  We  turned  from  the  narrow  hall 
into  a  small  parlour,  which,  from  its  dingy  furniture  o{ 
writing-desk  and  stools,  I  guessed  to  serve  as  an  office. 
Here  my  companion  lit  a  candle  from  the  embers  of  the 
fire,  and  having  carefully  closed  the  door  he  motioned  me 
to  a  seat. 

"  I  have  already  told  you,  sir,  that  I  am  not  in  the  least 
covetous  of  your  company  in  my  house;  circumstances, 
which  I  may  or  may  not  explain  hereafter,  have  led  me  to 
rescue  you  from  the  disgrace  you  must  eventually  have 
brought  upon  your  family." 

"  Hold,  sir,  I  have  none,  save  a  brother " 

"  Well,  sir,  and  your  brother's  feelings  are,  I  trust,  not 
to  be  slightingly  treated — a  young  gentleman  whose  posi- 
tion and  prospects  are  of  the  very  highest  order." 

"  You  are  his  agent,  I  perceive,  Mr.  Basset,"  said  I,  with 
a  significant  smile. 

"  I  am,  sir,"  replied  he,  with  a  deep  flush  that  mounted 
even  to  his  forehead. 

"  Then  let  me  save  you  all  further  trouble  on  my 
account,"  said  I,  calmly.  "My  brother's  indifference 
to  me  or  my  fate  has  long  since  absolved  me  from  any 


THE    BAIL.  153 

regret  I  might  feel  for  the  consequences  which  my  actions 
might  induce  on  his  fortunes.  His  own  conduct  must 
stamp  him,  as  mine  must  me.  I  choose  to  judge  for 
myself,  and  not  even  Mr.  Basset  shall  decide  for  me, 
although  I  am  well  aware  his  powers  of  discrimination 
have  had  the  double  advantage  of  experience  on  both  sides 
of  the  question." 

As  I  said  this,  his  face  became  almost  livid,  and  his 
white  lips  quivered  with  passion.  He  knew  not  before 
that  I  was  acquainted  with  his  history,  nor  that  I  knew  of 
his  having  sold  to  the  Government  information  which 
bro-ugfct  his  schoolfellow  and  benefactor  to  the  scaffold. 

"  Come,  come,"  continued  I,  gaining  courage,  as  I  saw 
the  effect  my  words  produced,  "  it  is  not  your  interest  to 
injure  me,  however  it  may  be  your  wish.  Is  there  no 
arrangement  we  can  come  to,  mutually  advantageous  ? 
We  shall  be  but  sorry  companions.  I  ought  to  have  some 
property  under  my  grandfather's  will." 

"  There  is,  I  believe,  five  hundred  pounds,"  said  Basset, 
with  a  slow  distinctness,  as  if  not  rejecting  the  turn  the 
conversation  had  taken. 

"  Well,  then,  what  will  you  take  to  cancel  that  inden- 
ture ?  You  don't  set  a  very  high  value  on  my  services,  I 
suppose?" 

"  You  forget,  I  perceive,"  said  he,  "  that  I  am  answer- 
able for  your  future  appearance  if  oalled  on." 

"  There  was  no  bail-bond  drawn  out,  no  sum  mentioned, 
if  I  mistake  not,  Mr.  Basset." 

"  Very  true,  sir,  very  true ;  but  I  pledged  myself  to  the 
law  adviser — my  character  is  responsible." 

"  Well,  well,  let  me  have  two  hundred  pounds — burn 
that  cursed  indenture " 

"  Two  hundred  pounds !  Do  yon  fancy,  then,  that  you 
are  in  the  possession  of  this  legacy  ?  Why,  it  never  may, 
in  all  likelihood  it  never  will,  be  yours — it's  only  payable 
on  your  attaining  your  majority." 

"  Give  me  one  hundred  pounds,  then— give  me  fifty — 
let  me  only  be  free,  at  liberty,  and  not  absolutely  a  beggar 
on  the  streets." 

Basset  leaned  his  head  on  the  chimney,  and  seemed  sunk 
in  reflection,  while  I,  wound  up  to  the  highest  pitch  of 
excitement,  trod  up  and  down  the  room,  pouring  forth 


154  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

from  time  to  time  short  and  broken  sentences,  declaratory 
of  my  desire  to  surrender  all  that  I  might  chance  to 
inherit  by  every  casualty  in  life,  to  my  last  guinea,  only  let 
there  be  no  constraint  on  my  actions — no  attempt  to  con- 
trol my  personal  liberty. 

"I  see,"  cried  I,  passionately — "I  see  what  hampers 
you — you  fear  I  may  compromise  my  family  !  It  is  my 
brother's  fair  fame  you  are  thinking  of;  but  away  with  all 
dread  on  that  score — I'll  leave  Ireland— I  have  long  since 
determined  on  that." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Basset,  slowly,  as  he  turned  round  his 
head,  and  looked  me  full  in  the  face.  "  Would  you  go  to 
America,  then  ?  " 

"  To  America !  no — to  France  !  that  shall  be  the  land 
of  my  adoption,  as  it  is  this  moment  of  all  my  heart's 
longings.'' 

His  eyes  sparkled,  and  a  gleam  of  pleasure  shot  across 
his  cold  features,  as  if  he  caught  a  glow  of  the  enthu- 
siasm that  lit  up  mine. 

"  Come,"  cried  he,  "  I'll  think  of  this — give  me  till  to- 
morrow, and  if  you'll  pledge  yourself  to  leave  Ireland 
within  a  week " 

"I'll  pledge  myself  to  nothing  of  the  kind,"  replied  I, 
fiercely.  "  It  is  to  be  free — free  in  thought  as  in  act,  that 
I  would  barter  all  my  prospects  with  you.  There  must 
be  but  one  compact  between  us — it  must  begin  and  end 
here.  Take  a  night  if  you  will  to  think  it  over,  and  to- 
morrow morning " 

"  Well,  then,  to-morrow  morning  be  it,"  said  he,  with 
more  of  animation  in  his  tone;  *'  and  now  to  sapper." 

"To  bed,  rather,"  said  I,  "if  I  may  speak  my  mind,  for 
rest  is  whr/;  I  now  stand  most  in  need  of." 


155 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

MR.  BASSET'S  DWELLING. 

.EXCEPTING  the  two  dingy-looking,  dust-covered  parlours, 
which  served  as  office  and  dining-room,  the  only  portion 
of  Mr.  Basset's  dwelling  untenanted  by  lodgers  were  the 
attics.  The  large  brass  plate  that  adorned  the  hall-door, 
setting  forth  in  conspicuous  letters,  "  Anthony  Basset, 
Attorney,"  gave  indeed  a  most  inadequate  notion  of  the 
mixed  population  within,  whose  respectability,  in  the  in- 
verse ratio  of  their  height  from  the  ground,  went  on  grow- 
ing beautifully  less,  till  it  found  its  culminating  point  in 
the  host  himself,  on  whose  venerable  head  the  light 
streamed  from  a  cobweb-covered  pane  in  the  roof.  The 
stairs  were  dark  and  narrow,  the  walls  covered  with  a  dull- 
coloured  old  wainscot,  that  flapped  and  banged  with  every 
foot  that  came  and  went,  while  the  windows  were  de- 
fended by  strong  iron  railings,  as  if  anything  inside  them 
could  possibly  demand  such  means  of  protection. 

I  followed  Mr.  Basset  as  he  led  the  way  up  these  appar- 
ently interminable  stairs,  till  at  length  the  decreasing 
head-room  betokened  thait  we  were  near  the  slates.  Mum- 
bling a  half  apology  for  the  locale,  he  introduced  me  into 
a  long,  low  attic,  where  a  settle  bed,  of  the  humblest  pre- 
tensions, and  a  single  rush-bottomed  chair  supporting  a 
basin,  were  the  only  articles  of  furniture.  Something  like 
the  drop-curtain  of  a  strolling  theatre  closed  up  the  dis- 
tance ;  but  this  I  could  only  perceive  imperfectly  by  the 
dim  twilight  of  a  dip  candle  ;  and  in  my  state  of  fatigue 
and  weariness,  I  had  little  inclination  to  explore  further. 
Wishing  me  a  good  night,  and  promising  that  I  should  be 
called  betimes  next  morning,  Mr.  Basset  took  his  leave, 
while  I,  overcome  by  a  long  day  of  care  and  anxiety, 
threw  myself  on  the  bed,  and  slept  far  more  soundly  than 
I  could  have  believed  it  were  possible  for  me  to  do  under 
the  roof  of  Anthony  Basset. 

The  sun  was  streaming  in  a  rich  flood  of  yellow  light 


166  TOM   BURKE    OP   "  OUES.M 

through  a  small  skylight,  and  playing  its  merry  gambols 
on  the  floor  when  I  awoke.  The  birds,  too,  were  singing  ; 
and  the  hum  of  the  street  noises,  mellowed  by  distance, 
broke  not  unpleasantly  on  the  ear.  It  did  not  take  me 
long  to  remember  where  I  was,  and  why.  The  conversa 
tion  of  the  evening  before  recurred  at  once  to  my  mind, 
and  hope,  stronger  than  ever  before  I  felt  it,  filled  my 
heart.  It  was  clear  Basset  could  place  little  value  on  such 
services  as  mine ;  and  if  I  could  only  contrive  to  make  it 
his  interest  to  part  with  mo,  he  would  not  hesitate  about 
it.  I  resolved  that,  whatever  price  he  put  upon  my  free- 
dom, if  in  my  power  I  should  pay  it.  My  next  plan  was 
to  find  out,  through  some  of  the  persons  in  correspond- 
ence with  France,  the  means  of  reaching  that  country,  in 
whose  military  service  I  longed  to  enrol  myself.  Had  I 
but  the  papers  of  my  poor  friend  Charles  de  Meudon, 
there  had  been  little  difficulty  in  this  ;  but,  unfortunately, 
they  were  seized  by  Major  Barton  on  the  day  of  his  death, 
and  I  had  never  seen  them  since. 

While  I  revolved  these  thoughts  within  myself  I  heard 
the  merry  notes  of  a  girl's  voice,  singing,  apparently,  in 
the  very  room  with  me.  I  started  up  and  looked  about 
me,  and  now  perceived  that  what  seemed  so  like  a  drop- 
curtain  the  night  before  was  nothing  more  or  less  than  a 
very  large  patchwork  quilt,  suspended  on  a  line  across  the 
entire  attic,  from  the  other  side  of  which  came  the  sounds 
in  question.  It  was  clear,  both  from  the  melody  and  the 
voice,  that  she  could  not  be  a  servant ;  and  somewhat 
curious  to  know  more  of  my  fair  neighbour,  I  rose  gently, 
and  slipping  on  my  clothes,  approached  the  boundary  of 
my  territory  with  noiseless  step. 

A  kind  of  whistling  noise  interrupted  every  now  and 
then  the  lady's  song,  and  an  occasional  outbreak  of  impa- 
tience would  burst  forth  in  the  middle  of  the  "  Arrah,  will 
you  marry  me,  dear  Alley  Croker?  "  by  some  malediction 
on  a  "  black  knot,"  or  a  broken  string.  I  peeped  over  the 
"  drop,"  and  beheld  the  figure  of  a  young,  plump,  and 
pretty  girl,  busily  engaged  in  lacing  her  stays — an  occupa- 
tion which  accounted  equally  for  the'  noise  of  the  rushing 
stay-lace  and  the  bit  of  peevishness  I  had  heard.  I  quite 
forgot  how  inadvisable  was  the  indulgence  of  my  curiosity 
in  my  admiration  of  my  fair  neighbour,  whose  buxom 


MR.  BASSET'S  DWELLING.  157 

figure,  not  the  less  attractive  for  the  shortness  of  her  dra- 
pery, showed  itself  to  peculiar  advantage  as  she  bent  to 
one  side  and  the  other  in  her  efforts  to  fasten  the  imprac- 
ticable boddice.  A  mass  of  rich  brown  hair,  on  which  the 
sun  was  playing,  fell  over  her  neck  and  on  her  shoulders, 
and  half  concealed  her  round,  well-turned  arms  as  they 
plied  their  busy  task. 

"  Well,  ain't  my  heart  broke  with  you  entirely?  "  ex- 
claimed she,  as  a  stubborn  knot  stopped  all  further  pro- 
gress. At  this  moment  the  cord,  on  which  through 
inadvertence  I  had  leaned  somewhat  too  heavily,  gave 
way,  and  down  came  the  curtain  with  a  squash  to  the 
floor.  She  sprang  back  with  a  bound,  and,  while  a  slight 
but  momentary  blush  flushed  her  cheek,  stared  at  me  half 
angrily,  and  then  cried  out,  "  Well,  I  hope  you  like  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  I  do,"  said  I,  readily ;  "  and  who  wouldn't 
that  saw  you  ?  " 

Whether  it  was  the  na'ivet6  of  my  confession,  or  my 
youth,  or  both,  I  can't  well  say,  but  she  laughed  heartily 
at  my  speech,  and  threw  herself  into  a  chair  to  indulge 
her  mirth. 

"  So  we  were  neighbours,  it  seems,"  said  I. 

"  And  if  we  were,"  said  she,  roguishly,  "  I  think  it's  a 
very  unceremonious  way  you've  opened  the  acquaint- 
ance." 

"  You  forget,  apparently,  I  haven't  left  my  own  terri- 
tory." 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  I  wish  you  would,  if  you're  any  good 
at  a  black  knot ;  my  heart  and  my  nails  are  both  broke 
with  one  here." 

I  didn't  wait  for  any  more  formal  invitation,  but  stepped 
at  once  over  the  frontier,  while  she,  rising  from  the  chair, 
turned  her  back  towards  me,  as  with  her  finger  she 
directed  me  to  the  most  chaotic  assemblage  of  knots, 
twists,  loops,  and  entanglements  I  ever  beheld. 

"  And  you're  Burke,  I  suppose,"  cried  she,  as  I  com- 
menced  my  labours. 

"  Yes,  I'm  Burke." 

"  Well,  I  hope  your  done  with  wildness  by  this  time. 
Uncle  Tony  tells  fine  tales  of  your  doings." 

"  Uncle  Tony!  So  you're  Mr.  Basset's  niece — is  that 
•o?" 


158  TOM    BURKE    OP    "  OURS.'* 

"  Ton  didn't  take  me  for  his  wife,  I  hope,"  said  she, 
again  bursting  out  into  laughter. 

"  In  truth,  I  never  thought  so  well  of  him  as  to  sup. 
pose  it." 

"  Well,  well,  I'm  sure  it's  little  I  expected  you  to  look 
so  mild  and  so  quiet ;  but  you  needn't  pinch  me,  for  all 
that.  Isn't  your  name  Tom  ?  " 


*'  Yes,  I  hope  you'll  always  call  me  so." 
"  Maybe  I  will     Isn't  that  done  yet  ?— a 


-and  there's  the 

milk  bell.  Uncle  will  be  in  a  nice  passion  if  I'm  not  down 
soon — cut  it — cut  it  at  once." 

"  Now  do  be  patient  for  a  minute  or  two — it's  all  right 
if  you  fctay  quiet.  I'll  try  my  teeth  on  it." 

"  Yes,  but  you  needn't  try  your  lips  too,"  said  she, 
tartly. 

"  Why,  it's  the  only  plan  to  get  your  fingers  out  of  the 
way.  I'm  sure  I  never  was  so  puzzled  in  all  my  life." 

"  Nothing  like  practice,  my  boy,  nothing,"  cried  a  merry 
voice  from  the  door  behind  me,  half  choked  with  laughing, 
while  a  muttered  anathema,  in  a  deeper  tone,  followed.  I 
looked  back,  and  there  stood  Bubbleton,  his  face  florid 
with  laughter,  endeavouring  to  hold  back  Mr.  Basset, 
whose  angry  look  and  flashing  eye  there  was  no  mis- 
taking. 

"  Mr.  Burke — Burke,  I  say — Nelly,  what  does  this 
mean  ?  How  came  this  young  gentleman " 

"  As  to  that,"  said  I,  interrupting  him,  and  my  blood 
somewhat  chafed  by  his  manner,  "  this  piece  of  trumpery 
tumbled  down  when  I  leaned  my  arm  on  it.  I  had  no 
idea " 

"  No,  no ;  to  be  sure  not,"  broke  in  Bubbleton,  in  an 
ecstasy.  "  The  thing  was  delicious ;  such  a  bit  of  stage 
effect.  She  was  there,  as  it  might  be,  combing  her  hair, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Tom  was  here,  raving  about 
absence  and  eternal  separation.  You  are  an  angry  father, 
or  uncle — all  the  same;  and  I'm  Count  Neitztachenitz, 
the  old  friend  and  brother-officer  of  Tom's  father.  Now, 

jet  Miss  Nelly But  where  is  she  ?• — why,  she's  gone  ! 

Eh,  and  Basset?  Basset! — why,  he's  gone!  Come, 
Tom,  don't  you  go  too.  I  say,  my  boy,  devilish  well  got 
up  that.  Yon  ought  to  have  had  a  white  satin  doublet 
and  hose,  slashed  with  pale  cherry-coloured  ribbons  to 


MR.  BASSET'S  DWELLING.  159 

match,  small  hat  looped,  aigrette  and  white  plume.  She 
was  perfect — her  leg  and  foot  were  three  certain  rounds 
of  applause  from  the  pit  and  gallery." 

"  What  nonsense  !  "  said  I,  angrily  ;  "  we  weren't  play- 
ing a  comedy." 

"  Weren't  you,  though  ?  Well,  I'm  deuced  sorry  for  it, 
that's  all ;  but  it  did  look  confoundedly  like  an  undress 
rehearsal." 

"  Come,  come,  no  foolery,  I  beg.  I'm  here  in  a  very 
sad  plight,  and  this  piece  of  nonsense  may  not  make  mat- 
ters any  better.  Listen  to  me,  if  you  can,  patiently  for 
five  minutes,  and  give  me  your  advice." 

I  took  him  by  the  arm  as  I  spoke,  and  leading  him  from 
the  room,  where  I  saw  that  everything  was  only  suggest- 
ing some  piece  of  scenic  effect,  and  in  as  few  words  as 
I  could  command,  explained  how  I  was  circumstanced ; 
omitting,  of  course,  any  detail  of  my  political  bias,  and 
only  stated  so  much  of  my  desire  as  implied  my  wish  to 
be  free  of  my  contract  with  Basset,  and  at  liberty  to  dis- 
pose of  myself  as  1  liked  in  future. 

"  I  see,"  cried  Bubbleton,  as  I  finished ;  "  the  old  fox 
has  this  five  hundred  pounds  of  yours." 

"  No,  I  didn't  say  that ;  I  only  mean " 

"  Well,  well,  it's  all  the  same.  If  he  hasn't,  you  know 
he  ought." 

"  No ;   that's  not  essential  either." 

"  No  matter,  he  would  if  he  could;  it  just  comes  to  the 
same  thing,  and  you  only  wish  to  get  clear  out  of  his 
hands  at  any  cost.  Isn't  that  it  ?  " 

"  Exactly ;  you  have  it  all  perfectly." 

"  Bless  your  heart,  boy,  there's  nothing  easier.  If  I 
were  in  your  place,  should  arrange  the  affair  in  less  than 
a  week.  I'd  have  fits — strong  fits — and  burn  all  the; 
papers  in  the  office  during  the  paroxysm.  I'd  make  a 
pile  of  deeds,  leases,  bonds,  and  settlements  in  the  back 
yard." 

"  I  don't  fancy  your  plan  would  be  so  successful  as  you 
flatter  yourself,"  said  a  dry  husky  voice  behind  :  "  there's 
rather  a  stringent  law  for  refractory  apprentices,  as  Mr. 
Burke  may  learn."  We  turned  round,  and  there  stood 
Mr.  Basset,  with  a  grin  of  most  diabolical  malignity  ir 
his  by  no  means  pleasant  features.  "  * ,A  the  same  time," 


160  TOM   BURKE   OF    "  OURS.'* 

continued  he,  "  your  suggestions  are  of  infinite  value,  and 
shall  be  duly  appreciated  in  the  King's  Bench." 

"  Eh — King's  Bench  !  Lord  bless  you,  don't  speak  of 
it.  Mere  trifles — I  just  threw  them  out  as  good  hints.  I 
had  fifty  far  better  to  come.  There's  the  young  lady,  now — 
to  be  sure,  he  has  started  that  notion  himself,  so  I  must  not 
pretend  it  was  mine ;  but  Miss  Nelly,  I  think,  Tom " 

"  Mr.  Basset  is  well  aware,"  interrupted  I,  "  that  I  am 
only  desirous  to  be  free  and  untrammelled — that  what- 
ever little  means  I  may  derive  from  my  family,  I'm  will- 
ing to  surrender  all,  short  of  actual  beggary,  to  attain 
this  object — that  I  intend  quitting  Ireland  at  once.  If, 
then,  he  consent  to  enter  into  an  arrangement  with  me,  let 
it  be  at  once,  and  on  the  spot.  I  have  no  desire,  I  have  no 
power,  to  force  him  by  a  threat,  in  case  of  refusal ;  but  I  hope 
he  will  make  so  much  of  amends  to  one  of  whose  present 
desolation  and  poverty  he  is  not  altogether  innocent." 

"  There,  there,  that's  devilish  well  said ;  the  whole  thing 
is  all  clear  before  me.  So  come  along,  Basset,  you  and  I 
will  settle  all  this.  Have  you  got  a  private  room  where 
we  can  have  five  minutes'  chat  together  ?  Tom,  wait 
for  me  here." 

Before  either  of  us  could  consent  or  oppose  his  arrange- 
ment, he  had  taken  Basset's  arm,  and  led  him  downstairs, 
while  I,  in  a  flurry  of  opposing  and  conflicting  resolves, 
sat  down  to  think  over  my  fortunes. 

Tired  at  length  with  waiting,  and  half  suspecting  that 
my  volatile  friend  had  forgotten  me  and  all  my  concerns, 
I  descended  to  the  parlour  in  hopes  to  hear  something  of 
the  pending  negotiation.  At  the  head  of  a  long,  narrow 
table  sat  my  fair  acquaintance,  Miss  Nelly,  her  hair 
braided  very  modestly  at  each  side  of  her  pretty  face, 
which  had  now  assumed  an  almost  Quakerish  propriety 
of  expression.  She  was  busily  engaged  in  distributing 
tea  to  three  pale,  red-eyed,  emaciated  men,  whose  spongy- 
looking,  threadbare  garments  bespoke  to  be  attorney's 
clerks  :  a  small  imp,  a  kind  of  embryo  practitioner,  knelt 
before  the  fire  in  the  act  of  toasting  bread,  but  followed 
with  his  sharp  piercing  eyes  every  stir  in  the  apartment, 
and  seemed  to  watch  with  malicious  pleasure  the  wry 
faces  around,  whenever  any  undue  dilution  of  the  bohea, 
or  any  curtailment  of  the  blue  milk  pressed  heavily  on  the 


MR.  BASSET'S  DWELLING.  161 

guests.  These  were  not  exactly  the  circumstances  to  re- 
new my  acquaintance  with  my  fair  neighbour,  had  I  been 
so  minded  ;  so  having  declined  her  offer  of  breakfast,  I 
leaned  moodily  on  the  chimney-piece,  my  anxiety  to  know 
my  fate  becoming  each  instant  more  painful.  Meanwhile, 
not  a  word  was  spoken — a  sad,  moody  silence,  unbroken 
save  by  the  sounds  of  eating,  pervaded  all,  when  suddenly 
the  door  of  the  front  pailour  was  flung  open,  and  Bubble- 
ton's  pleasant  voice  was  heard  as  he  talked  away  unceas- 
ingly ;  in  an  instant  he  entered,  followed  by  Basset,  over 
whose  hard  countenance  a  shade  of  better  nature  seemed 
to  pass. 

"  In  that  case,"  cried  the  Captain,  "I'm  your  man,  not 
that  I'm  anything  of  a  performer  at  breakfast  or  dinner  ; 
supper's  rather  my  forte — an  odour  of  a  broiled  bone  at 
three  in  the  morning,  a  herring  smeared  with  chetna  and 
grilled  with  brandy,  two  hundred  of  small  oysters,  a  few 
hot  ones  to  close  with,  a  glass  of  Seltzer  dashed  with 
Hollands  for  health,  and  then  any  number  you  like  of 
glasses  of  hot  brandy-and-water  afterwards  for  pleasure." 

While  Bubbleton  ran  on  in  this  fashion,  he  had  broken 
about  half  a  dozen  eggs  into  the  slop  basin,  and  seasoning 
the  mess  with  peppe^  and  vinegar,  was  busily  engaged  in 
illustrating  the  model  avion  of  his  morning  appetite. 

"Try  a  thing  like  this,  Tom,"  cried  he,  not  defining 
how  it  was  to  be  effected  under  the  circumstances,  while 
he  added  in  a  whisper,  "your  affair's  all  right." 

These  few  words  brought  courage  to  my  heart ;  and  I 
ventured  to  begin  the  breakfast  that  had  lain  untasted 
before  me. 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Burke,"  said  Basset,  as  soon  as  he  re- 
covered from  the  surprise  Bubbleton's  mode  of  breakfast- 
ing had  excited — "  I  think  and  trust  that  all  has  been 
arranged  to  your  satisfaction."  Then  turning  to  the 
clerks,  who  ate  away  without  even  lifting  their  heads, 
"  Mr.  Muggridge,  you  will  be  late  at  the  Masters'  Office ; 
Jones,  take  that  parcel  to  Hennet ;  Kit,  carry  my  bag  up 
to  the  Courts." 

Miss  Nelly  did  not  wait  for  the  part  destined  for  her, 
but  with  a  demure  face  rose  from  the  table  and  left  the 
room,  giving  me,  however,  one  sly  glance  as  she  passed 
my  chair  that  I  remembered  for  many  a  day  after. 


162  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

"  You'll  excuse  rue,  gentlemen,  if  I  am  pressed  for  timt 
this  morning — a  very  particular  case  comes  on  in  tha 
Common  Pleas." 

"  Never  speak  of  it,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Bubbleton, 
who  had  just  addressed  himself  to  a  round  of  spiced  beef, 
"business  has  its  calls  just  as  pleasure  has,  ay,  and 
appetite  too.  That  would  make  an  excellent  bit  of 
supper,  with  some  mulled  port,  after  a  few  rubbers  of 
shorts." 

Basset  paid  little  attention  to  this  speech,  but,  turning 
to  me,  continued  : — 

"  You  mentioned  your  intention  of  leaving  Ireland, 
I  think ;  might  I  ask  where  you  have  decided  on — from 
where  ?  Is  it  possible  that  your  brother " 

"  My  brother's  anxieties  on  my  account,  Mr.  Basset,  can 
scarcely  be  very  poignant,  and  deserve  no  particular  respect 
or  attention  at  my  hands.  I  suppose  that  this  morning 
has  concluded  all  necessary  intercourse  between  us  ;  and 
if  you  have  satisfied  my  friend  Captain  Bubbleton " 

"  Perfectly,  perfectly — another  cup  of  tea,  if  you  please 
— yes,  nothing  could  be  more  gratifying  than  Mr.  Basset's 
conduct — you  are  merely  to  sign  the  receipt  for  the  legacy, 
and  he  hands  you  over  one  hundred  pounds  ;  isn't  that  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  quite  correct ;  my  bill  for  one  hundred  at  three 
months." 

"  That's  what  I  mean  ;  but  surely  you're  not  done  break- 
fast— why,  Tom,  you've  eaten  nothing.  I  have  been  pick- 
ing away  this  half  hour,  just  to  encourage  you  a  bit.  Well, 
well,  I  lunch  in  Stephen's  Green  at  three,  so  here  goes." 

Mr.  Basset  now  took  from  his  pocket-book  some  papers, 
which,  having  glanced  his  eye  over,  he  handed  to  me. 

"  This  is  a  kind  of  acknowledgment,  Mr.  Burke,  for  the 
receipt  of  a  legacy  to  which  you  could  be  only  entitled  on 
attaining  your  majority  ;  here  are  your  indentures  to  me, 
and  this  is  my  acceptance  for  one  hundred  pounds." 

"  I  am  content,"  said  I,  eagerly,  as  I  seized  the  pen. 
The  thought  of  my  liberty  alone  filled  my  mind,  and  I 
cared  little  for  the  conditions,  provided  I  secured  tliat. 

Basket  proffered  his  hand  ;  I  was  in  no  humour  to  reject 
anything  that  even  simulated  cordiality  ;  I  shook  it  heartily. 
Bubbleton  followed  my  example,  and,  having  pledged  him- 
self to  see  more  of  his  pleasant  acquaintance,  thrust  his 


MR.  BASSET'S  DWELLING.  1G3 

arm  through  mine,  and  bustled  out,  adding,  in  a  tone  loud 
enough  to  be  overheard,  "  Made  a  capital  tight  of  it — told 
him  you  were  a  Defender,  a  United  Irishman,  a  Peep-o'- 
day  Boy,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing — devilish  glad  to  get 
rid  of  you,  even  on  Miss  Nelly's  account. '  And  so  be 
rattled  away  without  ceasing,  until  we  found  ourselves  at 
the  George's  Street  Barracks,  my  preoccupation  of  mind 
preventing  my  even  having  remarked  what  way  we  came. 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

THE    CAPTAIN'S    QUARTERS. 

I  WAS  not  sorry  to  find  that  Miss  Bubbleton  did  not  respond 
to  the  noisy  summons  of  the  Captain,  as  he  nourished  about 
from  one  room  to  the  other,  making  the  quarters  echo  to 
the  sweet  name  of  "  Anna  Maria."  "  Saladin,"  "  Grimes," 
"  Peter,"  were  also  shouted  out  unsuccessfully ;  and  with 
a  fierce  menace  against  various  grooms  of  the  chambers, 
waiting-men,  and  lacqueys,  who  happily  were  still  unborn, 
Bubbleton  flung  himself  into  a  seat,  and  began  to  conjecture 
what  had  become  of  the  inhabitants. 

"  She's  paying  a  morning  call — gone  to  see  the  Duchess 
— that's  it,  or  perhaps  she's  looking  over  that  suit  of  pearls 
I  bought  yesterday  at  Gallon's — pretty  baubles,  but  dear 
at  eight  hundred  pounds.  Never  mind,  what's  money  for, 
eh,  Tom?" 

As  he  looked  at  me  for  a  reply,  I  drew  my  chair  closer 
towards  him,  and,  assuming  as  much  of  importance  as  my 
manner  could  command,  I  besought  his  attention  for  a 
moment.  Hitherto,  partly  from  my  own  indecision,  partly 
from  his  flighty  and  volatile  bearing,  I  never  had  an  oppor- 
tunity either  to  explain  my  real  position  or  my  political 


164  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

sentiments,  much  less  my  intentions  for  the  future.  The 
moment  had  at  length  arrived,  and  I  resolved  to  profit  by 
it ;  and,  in  as  few  words  as  I  was  able,  gave  a  brief  nar- 
rative of  my  life,  from  the  hour  of  my  father's  death  to 
the  day  in  which  I  fell  into  his  own  hands  in  Dublin,  only 
omitting  such  portions  as  might,  by  the  mention  of  names, 
compromise  others  concerned. 

Nothing  could  possibly  be  more  attentive  than  he  wa3 
during  the  entire  detail.  He  leaned  his  head  on  his  hand, 
and  listened  with  eager  curiosity  to  all  my  scrapes  and 
difficulties,  occasionally  nodding  in  assent,  and  now  evinc- 
ing by  his  excited  air  his  desire  to  learn  further  ;  and  when 
I  at  last  wound  up  by  avowing  my  long-cherished  desire 
to  enter  the  French  service,  he  sat  perfectly  silent,  and 
seemed  to  reflect  gravely  on  the  whole. 

"  I  say,  Tom,"  said  he,  at  length,  as  he  stared  me  full  in 
the  face,  and  laid  his  hand  impressively  on  my  knee,  "there's 
good  stuff  in  that — excellent  stuff !  depend  upon  it !  " 

"Good  stuff!  what  do  you  mean?"  said  I,  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"  I  mean,"  replied  he,  "  there's  bone  in  it,  sinew  in  it, 
substance  in  it— there  are  some  admirable  situations  too. 
How  Pulham  would  come  out  in  Tony  Basset — brown 
shorts,  white  stockings,  high  shoes  and  buckles — his  own 
very  costume ;  and  there's  that  little  thing,  Miss  Booth, 
for  Nelly,  give  her  a  couple  of  songs — ballad  airs  take 
best ;  Williams  should  be  Barton ;  a  devilish  fine  villain 
in  coarse  parts,  Williams.  I  think  I  see  him  stealing 
along  by  the  flats  with  his  soldiers  to  the  attack.  Then 
the  second  act  should  open — interior  of  hut — peasants 
round  a  table — eating  always  successful  on  the  stage — 
nothing  like  seeing  a  fat  fellow  bolting  hard  eggs,  and 
blustering  out  unpronounceable  jokes  over  a  flagon  of 
coloured  water.  You,  by  right,  should  have  your  own 
part — splendid  thing — devilish  fine,  your  sensations  when 
the  cabin  was  on  fire,  and  the  fellows  were  prodding  about 
with  their  bayonets  to  discover  you." 

"  And  who's  to  perform  Captain  Bubbleton  ?  "  asked  I, 
venturing  for  once  to  humour  his  absurdity. 

'  Eh  ? — oh  !  there's  nothing  for  me,  no  marked  feature, 
nothing  strong,  nothing  characteristic.  That  has  been 
through  life  my  greatest,  my  very  highest  ambition — that 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  QUARTERS.  165 

no  man  should  ever  detect  by  anything  in  my  manner,  my 
dress,  or  my  style  of  conversation,  that  I  was  not  John 
Nokes,  or  Peter  Styles.  You'll  meet  me  at  a  dinner-party, 
Tom,  you'll  converse  with  me,  drink  with  me,  we'll  sit  the 
evening  together,  grow  intimate — perhaps  you'll  borrow 
fifty  pounds  of  me — and  yet  I'd  wager  another,  you'd 
never  guess  that  I  rode  a  hippopotamus  across  the  Ganges 
after  tiffin  one  day,  to  pay  my  respects  to  the  Governor- 
General.  That,  let  me  tell  you,  Tom,  is  the  very  proudest 
boast  a  man  can  make.  Do  you  see  that  scar  ?  It  looks 
nothing  now — that  was  a  bite  from  a  ferocious  boa ;  the 
villain  got  into  my  room  before  breakfast,  he  had  eaten  my 
chokadar — a  fellow  I  was  very  fond  of " 

"  Ah,  I  remember  you  mentioned  that  to  me.  And  now 
to  come  back  to  my  dull  story,  to  which,  I  assure  you, 
however  dramatic  you  may  deem  it,  I'd  prefer  adding  an 
act  or  so  before  it  comes  before  the  world.  I  intend  to 
leave  this  to-morrow." 

"  No,  no,  you  mustn't  think  of  it,  yet  awhile.  Why, 
my  dear  fellow,  you've  a  hundred  pounds — only  think  of 
that !  twenty  will  bring  you  to  Paris  ;  less,  if  you  choose. 
I  once  travelled  from  Glugdamuck  to  the  Ghauts  of  Bun- 
deramud  for  half  a  rupee — put  my  elephants  on  three 
biscuits  a  day — explained  to  them  in  Hindostanee — a  most 
expressive  language— that  our  provisions  had  fallen  short 
• — that  on  our  arrival  all  arrears  of  grub  should  be  made 
up.  They  tossed  up  their  trunks  thus  in  token  of  assent, 
and  on  we  marched.  Well,  when  we  came  to  Helgie,  there 
was  no  water " 

"  Very  true,"  interrupted  I,  half  in  despair  at  the  tor- 
rent of  story-telling  I  had  got  involved  in ;  "  but  you 
forget  1  have  neither  elephants,  nor  camels,  nor  coolies, 
nor  chokadars — I'm  a  mere  adventurer  with,  except  your- 
self, not  a  friend  in  the  world." 

"  Then  why  not  join  us  ?  "  cried  the  ever-ready  Captain. 
"We  are  to  have  oar  orders  for  foreign  service  in  a  few 
weeks — you've  only  to  volunteer ;  you've  money  enough  to 
buy  your  kit.  When  you're  fairly  in,  it's  only  writing  to 
your  br  )ther.  Besides,  something  always  turns  up  ;  that's 
my  philosophy.  I  rarely  want  anything  I  don't  find 
means  to  obtain,  somehow  or  other." 

"  No,"  said  I,  resolutely,  "  I  will  never  join  the  service 


166  TOM    BURKE   OF    "  OURS.*' 

of  a  country  which  has  inflicted  such  foul  wrong  on  my 
native  land." 

"All  stuff  and  nonsense!"  cried  Bubbleton.  "Who 
cares  the  deuce  of  clubs  about  politics  ?  When  you're  my 
age,  you'll  find  that  if  you're  not  making  something  of 
politics,  they'll  make  very  little  of  you.  I'd  as  soon  sell 
figs  for  my  grocer,  or  snuff  for  my  tobacconist,  as  I'd 
bother  my  head  governing  the  kingdom  for  Billy  Pitt ; 
he's  paid  for  it — that's  his  business,  not  mine.  No,  no,  my 
boy,  join  us — you  shall  be  '  Burke  of  Ours  ' — we'll  have  a 
glorious  campaign  among  the  Yankees.  I'll  teach  you 
the  Seneca  language,  and  we'll  have  a  ramble  through  the 
Indian  settlements.  Meanwhile,  you  dine  to-day  at  the 
mess ;  to-morrow,  we  pic-nic  at  the  Dargle  ;  next  day  we 
— what  the  deuce  is  next  day  to  be? — oh,  yes  !  next  day 
we  all  dine  with  you.  Nothing  stiff  or  formal — a  snug, 
quiet  thing  for  sixteen — I'll  manage  it  all." 

Here  was  an  argument  there  was  no  resisting,  so  I  com- 
plied at  once,  comforting  myself  with  a  silent  vow,  come 
what  might,  I'd  leave  Ireland  the  day  after  my  dinner- 
party. 

Under  whatever  guise,  with  what  history  of  my  rank, 
wealth,  and  family  influence,  Bubbleton  thought  proper  to 
present  me  to  his  brother  officers,  I  cannot  say ;  but 
nothing  could  possibly  be  more  kind,  or  even  more  cordial, 
than  their  reception  of  me ;  and  although  I  had  some 
difficulty  in  replying  to  questions  put  under  mistaken 
notions  of  my  position  and  intentions,  I  readily  followed, 
as  far  as  I  was  able,  the  line  suggested  by  my  imaginative 
friend,  whose  representations,  I  suspected,  would  be  re- 
ceived with  a  suitable  limitation  by  his  old  associates. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  species  of  society  so  striking  and 
so  captivating  to  the  young  man  entering  on  life  as  that  of 
a  military  mess.  The  easy,  well-bred  intimacy,  that  never 
degenerates  into  undue  familiarity — the  good-humoured, 
playful  raillery,  that  never  verges  on  coarseness  or  severity 
— the  happy  blending  of  old  men's  wisdom  and  young 
men's  buoyancy — are  all  very  attractive  features  of  social 
intercourse,  even  independently  of  the  stronger  interest 
that  invests  the  companionship  of  men  whose  career  is 
arms.  I  felt  this,  and  enjoyed  it,  too,  not  the  less  pleas- 
antly that  I  discovered  no  evidence  of  that  violent  partisan 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  QUABTEBS.  167 

feeling  I  had  been  led  to  believe  was  the  distinguishing 
mark  of  the  Royalist  soldier.  If,  by  chance,  any  allusion 
was  made  to  the  troubles  of  the  period,  it  was  invariably 
done  rather  in  a  tone  of  respect  for  mistaken  and  ill- 
directed  political  views,  than  in  reprehension  of  disloyalty 
and  rebellion ;  and  when  I  heard  the  dispassionate 
opinions,  and  listened  to  the  mild  counsels  of  these  men, 
whom  I  had  always  believed  to  be  the  veriest  tyrants  and 
oppressors,  I  could  scarcely  credit  my  own  senses,  so 
utterly  opposed  were  my  impressions  and  my  experience. 
One  only  of  the  party  evinced  an  opposite  feeling.  He 
was  a  pale,  thin,  rather  handsome  man,  of  about  five-and- 
twenty,  who  had  lately  joined  them  from  a  dragoon  regi- 
ment, and  who,  by  sundry  little  iriuendoes,  was  ever  bringing 
uppermost  the  preference  he  evinced  for  his  former  service, 
and  his  ardent  desire  to  be  back  again  in  the  cavalry. 

Captain  Montague  Crofts  was,  indeed,  the  only  exception 
I  witnessed  to  the  almost  brotherly  feeling  that  prevailed 
in  the  Forty-fifth.  Instead  of  identifying  himself  with  the 
habits  and  opinions  of  his  brother  officers,  he  held  himself 
studiously  apart.  Regarding  his  stay  in  the  regiment  like 
a  period  of  probation,  he  seemed  resolved  to  form  neither 
intimacies  nor  friendships,  but  to  wait  patiently  for  the 
time  of  his  leaving  the  corps  to  emancipate  himself  from 
a  society  below  his  caste. 

The  cold,  repulsive,  steady  stare,  the  scarcely  bowed 
head,  the  impassive  silence  with  which  he  heard  the 
words  of  Bubbleton's  introduction  of  me,  formed  a  strong 
contrast  with  the  warm  cordiality  of  the  others ;  and 
though  at  the  time  little  disposed  to  criticize  the  manner 
of  any  one,  and  still  less  to  be  dissatisfied  with  anything, 
I  conceived  from  the  moment  a  dislike  to  Captain  Crofts, 
which  I  felt  to  increase  with  every  minute  I  spent  in  his 
company.  The  first  occasion  which  suggested  this  dis- 
like on  my  part  was,  from  observing  that  while  Bubbleton 
— whose  historical  accuracy,  or  blind  adherence  to  reality, 
BO  one  in  the  corps  thought  of  requiring — narrated  some 
of  his  incredible  adventures,  Crofts,  far  from  joining  in 
the  harmless  mirth  which  such  tales  created,  invariably 
took  delight  in  questioning  and  cross-questioning  the 
worthy  Captain,  quoting  him  against  himself,  and  playing 
off  a  hundred  tricks,  which,  however  smart  and  witty  in 


168  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OUKS." 

a  law  court,  are  downright  rudeness  when  practised  in 
society.  Bubbleton,  it  is  true,  saw  nothing  in  all  this 
save  the  natural  interest  of  a  good  listener — but  the 
others  did ;  and  it  was  quite  clear  to  me,  that  while  one 
was  the  greatest  favourite  in  the  regiment,  the  other  had 
not  a  single  friend  amongst  them.  To  me,  Crofts  mani- 
fested the  most  perfect  indifference — not  ever  mixing 
himself  in  any  conversation  in  which  I  bore  a  part.  He 
rarely  turned  his  head  towards  that  part  of  the  table  at 
which  I  sat ;  and  by  an  air  of  haughty  superciliousness 
gave  me  plainly  to  understand  that  our  acquaintance, 
though  confessedly  begun,  was  to  proceed  no  further.  I 
cannot  say  how  happy  I  felt  to  learn  that  one  I  had  so 
much  cause  to  dislike  was  a  violent  aristocrat,  an  ultra- 
Tory — a  most  uncompromising  denouncer  of  the  Irish 
Liberal  party,  and  an  out-and-out  advocate  of  severe  and 
harsh  measures  towards  the  people.  He  never  missed  an 
opportunity  for  the  enunciation  of  such  doctrines,  which, 
whatever  might  be  the  opinions  of  the  listeners,  there 
was,  at  the  time  I  speak  of,  no  small  risk  in  gainsaying , 
and  this  immunity  did  Crofts  enjoy  to  his  heart's  content. 

Slight  as  these  few  reminiscences  of  the  mess  are, 
they  are  the  called-up  memories  of  days  not  to  be  forgotten 
by  me.  For  now,  what  with  my  habitual  indecision  on 
the  one  hand,  and  Bubbleton's  solicitations  on  the  other,  I 
continued  to  linger  on  in  Dublin,  leading  the  careless, 
easy  life  of  those  about  me,  joining  in  all  the  plots  for 
amusement  which  the  capital  afforded,  and  mixing  in 
every  society  to  which  my  military  friends  had  access. 
Slender  as  were  my  resources,  they  sufficed,  in  the  eyes 
of  all  who  knew  not  their  limit,  to  appear  abundant. 
Crofts  was  the  only  rich  man  in  the  regiment ;  and  my 
willingness  to  enter  into  every  scheme  of  pleasure,  re- 
gardless of  cost,  impressed  them  all  with  the  notion  that 
Bubbleton  for  once  was  right,  and  that  "  Burke  was  a 
kind  of  west-country  Creeps,"  invaluable  to  the  regi- 
ment. 

Week  after  week  rolled  on,  and  still  did  I  find  myself  a 
Jenizen  of  George's  Street.  The  silly  routine  of  the 
barrack  life  filled  all  my  thoughts,  save  when  the  waning 
condition  of  my  purse  would  momentarily  turn  them 
towards  the  future ;  but  these  moments  of  reflection  came 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  QUARTERS.  169 

but  seldom,  and  at  last  came  not  at  all.  It  was  autumn— 
the  town  almost  divested  of  its  inhabitants,  at  least  of 
all  who  could  leave  it ;  and  along  the  parched,  sun-burnt 
streets  a  stray  jingle  or  a  noddy  was  rarely  seen  to  pass. 
The  squares,  so  lately  crowded  with  equipages  and  caval- 
cades of  horsemen,  were  silent  and  deserted ;  the  closed 
shutters  of  every  house,  and  the  grass-grown  steps, 
vouched  for  the  absence  of  the  owners.  The  same  dreamy 
lethargy  that  seemed  to  rest  over  the  deserted  city  ap- 
peared to  pervade  everything ;  and  save  a  certain  subdued 
activity  among  the  officials  of  the  Castle — a  kind  of  ground- 
swell  movement  that  boded  something  important — there 
was  nothing  stirring.  The  great  measure  of  the  "  Union," 
which  had  been  carried  on  the  night  of  the  riots,  had, 
however,  annihilated  the  hopes  of  the  Irish  Liberal  party ; 
and  many  who  once  had  taken  a  leading  part  in  politics 
had  now  deserted  public  life  for  ever. 

They  with  whom  I  associated  cared  but  little  for  these 
things.  There  were  but  two  or  three  Irish  in  the  regi- 
ment, and  they  had  long  since  lost  all  their  nationality  in 
the  wear  and  tear  of  the  service  ;  so  that  I  heard  nothing 
of  what  occupied  the  public  mind,  and  lived  on  in  the 
very  midst  of  the  threatening  hurricane,  in  a  calm  as 
deep  as  death  itself. 

I  had  seen  neither  Barton  nor  Basset  since  the  day  of 
my  leave-taking;  and,  stranger  still,  never  could  meet 
with  Darby,  who  seemed  to  have  deserted  Dublin.  The 
wreck  of  the  party  he  belonged  to  seemed  now  effectually 
accomplished,  and  the  prospect  of  Irish  independence  was 
lost,  as  it  seemed,  for  ever. 

I  was  sitting  one  evening  in  the  window  of  Bubble- 
ton's  quarters,  thinking  over  these  things,  not  without 
self-reproach  for  the  life  I  was  leading,  so  utterly  adverse 
to  the  principles  I  had  laid  down  for  my  guidance.  I 
thought  of  poor  De  Meudon,  and  all  his  ambitious 
dreams  for  my  success,  and  I  felt  my  cheek  flush  with 
shame  for  my  base  desertion  of  the  cause  to  which,  with 
his  dying  breath,  he  devoted  me.  I  brought  up  in  memory 
those  happy  evenings,  as  we  wandered  through  the  fields, 
talking  over  the  glorious  campaigns  of  Italy,  or  speculat- 
ing on  the  mighty  changes  we  believed  yet  before  us ;  and 
then  I  thought  of  the  reckless  orgies  in  which  my  present 


170  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS." 

life  was  passed.  I  remembered  how  his  full  voice  would 
falter  when  one  great  name  fell  from  his  lips ;  and  with 
what  reverence  he  touched  his  chapeau  as  the  word 
"  Bonaparte"  escaped  from  him!  And  how  my  heart 
thrilled  to  think  of  au  enthusiasm  that  could  light  up  the 
dying  embers  of  a  broken  heart,  and  make  it  flash  out  in 
vivid  brilliancy  once  more !  and  longed  to  feel  as  he  did. 

For  the  first  time  for  some  weeks  I  found  myself 
alone.  Bubbleton  was  on  guard;  and  though  I  had 
promised  to  join  him  at  supper,  I  lingered  at  home,  to 
think  and  ponder  over  the  past.  I  scarcely  dared  to  face 
the  future.  It  was  growing  dusky.  The  richly  golden 
arch  of  an  autumn  moon  could  be  seen  through  the  hazy 
mist  of  that  half  frost  which  is  at  this  season  the  sure 
harbinger  of  a  hot  day  on  the  morrow.  The  street  noises 
had  gradually  died  away,  and,  save  the  distant  sound  of 
a  ballad  singer,  whose  mournful  cadence  fell  sadly  on  the 
ear,  I  heard  nothing. 

Without  perceiving  it,  I  found  myself  listening  to  the 
doggrel  of  the  minstrel,  who,  like  most  of  her  fellows  of 
the  period,  was  celebrating  the  means  that  had  been  used 
by  Government  to  carry  their  favourite  measure — the 
union  with  England.  There  was,  indeed,  very  little  to 
charm  the  ear  or  win  the  sense,  in  either  the  accent  or  the 
sentiment  of  the  melody  ;  yet  somehow  she  had  contrived 
to  collect  a  pretty  tolerable  audience,  who  moved  slowly 
along  with  her  down  the  street,  and  evinced  by  many  an 
outburst  of  enthusiasm  how  thoroughly  they  relished  the 
pointed  allusions  of  the  verse,  and  how  completely  they 
enjoyed  the  dull  satire  of  the  song. 

As  they  approached  the  barracks,  the  procession  came 
to  a  halt,  probably  deeming  that  so  valuable  a  lesson 
should  not  be  lost  to  His  Majesty's  service  ;  and,  forming 
into  a  circle  round  the  singer,  a  silence  was  commanded, 
when,  with  that  quavering  articulation  so  characteristic  of 
the  tribe,  and  that  strange  quality  of  voice  that  seems  to 
alternate  between  a  high  treble  and  a  deep  bass,  the  lady 
began : — 

"  Don't  be  crowdin'  an  me  that  a  way.  There  it  is  now 
— ye're  teariu'  the  cloak  off  the  back  o'  me  !  Divil  receave 
the  note  I'll  sing,  if  ye  don't  behave !  And  look  at  his 
honour  up  there,  with  a  tenpenny  bit  in  the  heel  of  his 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  QUARTERS.  171 

fist  for  me.  The  Lord  rewand  your  purty  face — 'tis  your- 
self  has  the  darlin'  blue  eyes !  Bad  scran  to  yez,  ye 
blaggards — look  at  my  elegant  bonnet  the  way  you've 
made  it ! " 

"  Arrah !  rise  the  tune,  and  don't  be  blarneying  the 
young  gentleman,"  said  a  voice  from  the  crowd ;  and  then 
added,  in  a  lower  but  very  audible  tone,  "  Them  chaps 
hasn't  a  farthin'  beyond  their  pay — three  and  ninepence  a 
day,  and  find  themselves  in  pipeclay ! ' 

A  rude  laugh  followed  this  insolent  speech ;  and  the 
ballad- singer,  whose  delay  had  only  been  a  ruse  to  attract 
a  sufficient  auditory,  then  began  to  a  very  well-known  air — 

"  Come  hither,  M.P.'s,  and  I'll  tell 

My  advice,  and  I'm  sure  you'll  not  mock  it : 
Whoe'er  has  a  country  to  sell, 

Need  never  want  gold  in  his  pocket. 
Your  brother  a  bishop  shall  be — 

Yourself — if  you  only  will  make  a 
Voice  in  our  ma-jo-rity — 

We'll  make  you  chief  judge  in  Jamaica. 

Tol,  lol  de  rol,  tol  de  rol  lay  1" 

The  mob-chorus  here  broke  in,  and  continued  with  such 
hearty  enthusiasm,  that  I  lost  the  entire  of  the  next  verse 
in  the  tumult. 

"  Your  father,  they  say,  is  an  ass, 

And  your  mother,  not  noted  for  knowledge  ; 
But  he'll  do  very  well  at  Madras, 

And  she  shall  be  provost  of  college. 
Your  aunt,  lady's-maid  to  the  Queen  ; 

And  Bill,  if  he'll  give  up  his  rakin', 
And  not  drunk  in  day-time  be  seen, 
I'll  make  him  a  rosy  archdeacon. 

Tol,  lol  de  rol,  tol  de  rol  lay/ 

"  A  jollier  set  ne'er  was  seen, 

Than  you'll  be,  when  freed  from  your  callin', 
With  an  empty  house  in  College  Green — 

What  an  elegant  place  to  play  ball  in. 
Ould  Foster  stand  by  with  his  mace, 

He'll  do  mighty  well  for  a  marker ; 
John  Toler " 

"Here's  the  polis  !  "  said  a  gruff  voice  from  the  crowd ; 
and  the  word  was  repeated  from  mouth  to  mouth  in  every 


172  TOM   BURKE   OP   "  OURS." 

accent  of  fear  and  dread,  while  in  an  instant  all  took  to 
flight,  some  dashing  down  obscure  lanes  and  narrow  alleys, 
others  running  straight  onwards  towards  Dame  Street,  but 
all  showing  the  evident  apprehension  they  felt  at  the 
approach  of  these  dreaded  officials.  The  ballad-singer 
alone  did  not  move.  Whether  too  old  or  too  infirm  to 
trust  to  speed,  or  too  much  terrified  to  run,  I  know  not ; 
but  there  she  stood,  the  last  cadence  of  her  song  still 
dying  on  her  lips,  while  the  clattering  sounds  of  men 
advancing  rapidly  were  heard  in  the  distant  street. 

I  know  not  why,  some  strange  momentary  impulse,  half 
pity,  half  caprice,  moved  me  to  her  rescue,  and  1  called 
out  to  the  sentry,  "  Let  that  woman  pass  in !  "  She  heard 
the  words,  and  with  an  activity  greater  than  I  could  have 
expected,  sprang  into  the  barrack-yard,  while  the  police 
passed  eagerly  on  in  vain  pursuit  of  their  victims. 

I  remained  motionless  in  the  window-seat,  watching  the 
now  silent  street,  when  a  gentle  tap  came  to  my  door.  I 
opened  it,  and  there  stood  the  figure  of  the  ballad  singer, 
her  ragged  cloak  gathered  closely  across  her  face  with  one 
hand,  while  with  the  other  she  held  the  bundle  of  printed 
songs,  her  only  stock-in-trade. 


173 


CHAPTER     XIX. 

THE    QTTABBEL. 

WHILE  I  stood  gazing  at  the  uncouth  and  ragged  figure 
before  me,  she  pushed  rudely  past,  and  shutting  the  door 
behind  her,  asked,  in  a  low  whisper,  "  Are  ye  alone  ?  " 
and  then,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  threw  back  the 
tattered  bonnet  that  covered  her  head,  and,  removing  a 
wig  of  long  black  hair,  stared  steadfastly  at  me, 

"  Do  you  know  me,  now  ?"  said  the  hag,  in  a  voice  of 
almost  menacing  eagerness. 

"  What ! "  cried  I,  in  amazement,  "  it  surely  cannot 
be* Darby,  is  this  really  you  ?  " 

"Ye  may  well  say  it,"  replied  he,  bitterly.  "Ye  had 
time  enough  to  forget  me  since  we  met  last ;  and  'tis 
thinking  twice  your  grand  friends  the  officers  would  be, 
before  they'd  put  their  necks  where  mine  is  now  to  see 
you.  Read  that " — as  he  spoke,  he  threw  a  ragged  and 
torn  piece  of  printed  paper  on  the  table — "  read  that ;  and 
you'll  see  there's  five  hundred  pounds  of  blood-money  to 
the  man  that  takes  me.  Ay,  and  here  I  stand  this  niinit 
in  the  king's  barrack,  and  walked  fifty-four  miles  this 
blessed  day  just  to  see  you  and  speak  to  you  once  more. 
Well,  well  " — he  turned  away  his  head  while  he  said  this, 
and  wiping  a  starting  tear  from  his  red  eye-ball,  he  added, 
*' Master  Tom,  'tis  myself  would  never  b'lieve  ye  done  it." 

"  Did  what  ?  "  said  I,  eagerly ;  "  what  have  I  ever  done 
that  you  should  charge  me  thus  ?  " 

But  Darby  heard  me  not;  his  eyes  were  fixed  on 
vacancy,  and  his  lips  moved  rapidly  as  though  he  were 
speaking  to  himself.  "  Ay,"  said  he,  half  aloud,  "  true 
enough,  'tis  the  gentlemen  that  betrayed  us  always — never 
came  good  of  the  cause  where  they  took  a  part.  But 
you  " — here  he  turned  full  round,  and  grasping  my  arm, 
spoke  directly  to  me — "  you  that  I  loved  better  than  my 
own  kith  and  kin,  that  I  thought  would  one  day  be  a  pride 


174  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

and  glory  to  us  all — you  that  I  brought  over  myself  to  the 
cause " 

"And  when  have  I  deserted — when  have  I  betrayed 
it?" 

"  When  did  you  desert  it  ? "  repeated  he,  in  a  tone  of 
mocking  irony.  "  Tell  me  the  day  and  hour  ye  came  here 
— tell  me  the  first  time  ye  sat  down  among  the  red  butchers 
of  King  George,  and  I'll  answer  ye  that.  Is  it  here  you 
ought  to  be  ?  Is  this  the  home  for  him  that  has  a  heart 
for  Ireland  ?  I  never  said  you  betrayed  us  ;  others  said 
it — but  I  stood  to  it,  ye  never  did  that.  But  what  does  it 
signify  ?  'Tis  no  wonder  ye  left  us ;  we  were  poor  and 
humble  people,  we  had  nothing  at  heart  but  the  good 
cause " 

"  Stop !  "  cried  I,  maddened  by  this  taunt,  "what  could 
I  have  done  ?  Where  was  my  place  ?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me.  If  your  own  heart  doesn't  teach  thee, 
how  can  I  ?  But  it's  over  now — the  day  is  gone,  and  I 
must  take  to  the  road  again.  My  heart  is  lighter  since 
I  seen  you,  and  it  will  be  lighter  again  when  I  give  you 
this  warnin' — God  knows  if  you'll  mind  it.  You  think 
yourself  safe  now  since  you  joined  the  sodgers — you  think 
they  trust  you,  and  that  Barton's  eye  isn't  on  ye  still — 
there  isn't  a  word  you  say  isn't  noted  down — not  a  man 
you  spake  to  isn't  watched!  You  don't  know  it,  but  I 
know  it.  There's  more  go  to  the  gallows  in  Ireland  over 
their  wine,  than  with  the  pike  in  their  hands.  Take  care 
of  your  friends,  I  say." 

"  You  wrong  them,  Darby,  and  you  wrong  me.  Never 
have  I  heard  from  one  here  a  single  word  that  could  offend 
the  proudest  heart  among  us." 

"Why  would  they?— what  need  of  it?  Ar'n't  we 
down,  down — ar'n't  we  hunted  like  wild  beasts  ?  is  the 
roof  left  to  shelter  us  ?  dare  we  walk  the  roads  ?  dare  we 
say,  *  God  save  ye ! '  when  we  meet,  and  not  be  tried  for 
pass  words  ?  It's  no  wonder  they  pity  us — the  hardest 
heart  must  melt  sometimes." 

"  As  to  myself,"  said  I — for  there  was  no  use  in  attempt- 
ing to  reason  with  him  further — "  my  every  wish  is  with 
the  cause  as  warmly  as  on  the  day  we  parted  ;  but  I  look 
to  France " 

"  Ay,  and  why  not  ?     I  remember  the  time  your  eye 


THE    QUARREL.  175 

flashed  and  your  cheek  grew  another  coloui  when  you 
Bpoke  of  that." 

"Yes,  Darby,"  said  I,  after  a  pause;  "and  I  had  not 
been  here  now,  but  that  the  only  means  I  possessed  of 
forwarding  myself  in  the  French  service  are  unfortunately 
lost  to  me." 

"  And  what  was  that  ?  "  interrupted  he,  eagerly. 

"  Some  letters  which  the  poor  Captain  de  Meudon  gave 
me,"  said  I,  endeavouring  to  seem  as  much  at  ease  as  I 
could.  Darby  stooped  down  as  I  spoke,  and,  ripping  open 
the  lining  of  his  cloak,  produced  a  small  parcel  fastened 
with  a  cord,  saying, — 

"Are  these  what  you  mean?" 

I  opened  it  with  a  trembling  hand,  and,  to  my  inexpres- 
sible delight,  discovered  Charles's  letter  to  the  head  of  the 
Ecole  Poly  technique,  together  with  a  letter  of  credit  and 
two  cheques  on  his  banker.  The  note  to  his  sister  was 
not,  however,  among  them. 

"  How  came  you  by  these  papers,  Darby  ?  "  inquired  I, 
eagerly. 

"  I  found  them  on  the  road  Barton  travelled,  the  same 
evening  you  made  your  escape  from  the  yeomanry — you 
remember  that  ?  They  were  soon  missed,  and  an  orderly 
was  sent  back  to  search  for  them.  Since  that,  I've  kept 
them  by  me  ;  and  it  was  only  yesterday  that  I  thought  of 
bringing  them  to  you,  thinking  you  might  know  some- 
thing about  them." 

"  There's  a  mark  on  this  one,"  said  I,  still  gazing  on 
the  paper  in  my  hand — "  it  looks  like  blood." 

"  If  it  is,  it's  mine,  then,"  said  Darby,  doggedly ;  and, 
after  a  pause,  he  continued,  "  the  soldier  galloped  up  the 
very  minute  I  was  stooping  for  the  papers.  He  called 
out  to  me  to  give  them  up ;  but  I  pretended  not  to  hear, 
and  took  a  long  look  round  to  see  what  way  I  could 
escape  where  his  horse  couldn't  follow  me ;  but  he  saw 
what  I  was  at,  and  the  same  instant  his  sabre  was  in  my 
shoulder,  and  the  blood  running  hot  down  my  arm.  I 
fell  on  my  knees ;  but,  if  I  did,  I  took  this  from  my 
breast " — here  he  drew  forth  a  long-barrelled  rusty  pistol 
— "  and  shot  him  through  the  neck." 

"  Was  he  killed  ?  "  said  I,  in  horror  at  the  coolness  of 
the  recital. 


176  TOM  BURKE   OF   "  OURS." 

"  Sorrow  one  o'  me  knows.  He  fell  on  his  horse's 
mane,  and  I  saw  the  beast  gallop  with  him  tip  the  road 
with  his  arms  hanging  at  each  side  of  the  neck  ;  and  then 
I  heard  a  crash,  and  I  saw  that  he  was  down,  and  the 
horse  was  dragging  him  by  the  stirrup  ;  but  the  dust  soon 
hid  him  from  my  sight,  and,  indeed,  I  was  growing  weak, 
too,  so  I  crept  into  the  bushes  until  it  was  dark,  and  then 
got  down  to  Glencree." 

The  easy  indifference  with  which  he  spoke,  the  tone  of 
coolness  in  which  he  narrated  this  circumstance,  thrilled 
through  me  far  more  painfully  than  the  most  passionate 
description ;  and  I  stood  gazing  on  him  with  a  feeling  of 
dread,  that,  unhappily,  my  features  but  too  plainly  indi- 
cated. He  seemed  to  know  what  was  passing  in  my 
mind,  and,  as  if  stung  by  what  he  deemed  my  ingratitude 
for  the  service  he  had  rendered  me,  his  face  grew  darkly 
red,  the  swollen  veins  stood  out  thick  and  knotted  in  his 
forehead,  his  livid  lips  quivered,  and  he  said  in  a  thick, 
guttural  voice, — 

"  Maybe  ye  think  I  murdered  him?"  And  then,  as  I 
made  no  answer,  he  resumed,  in  a  different  tone,  "  And, 
faix,  ye  warn't  long  larnin'  their  lessons.  But,  hear  me, 
now  :  there  never  was  a  traitor  to  the  cause  had  a  happy 
life,  or  an  easy  death ;  there  never  was  one  betrayed  us, 
but  we  were  revenged  on  him  or  his.  I  don't  think  ye're 

come  to  that  yet ;  for,  if  I  did,  by  the  mortial "  As 

he  pronounced  the  last  word,  in  a  tone  of  the  fiercest 
menace,  the  sound  of  many  voices  talking  without,  and 
the  noise  of  a  key  turning  in  the  lock,  broke  in  upon  our 
colloquy,  and  Darby  had  scarcely  time  to  resume  his  dis- 
guise, when  Bubbleton  entered,  followed  by  three  of  his 
brother  officers,  all  speaking  together,  and  in  accents  that 
evidently  betokened  their  having  drunk  somewhat  freely. 

"  I  tell  you,  again  and  again,  the  diamond  wins  it. 
But  here  we  are,"  cried  Bubbleton ;  "  and  now  for  a  pack 
of  cards,  and  let's  decide  the  thing  at  once." 

"  You  said  you'd  bet  fifty,  I  think  ? "  drawled  out 
Crofts,  who  was  unquestionably  the  most  sober  of  the 
party.  "  But  what  have  we  here  ?  "  At  this  instant  his 
eye  fell  upon  Darby,  who  had  quietly  ensconced  himself 
behind  the  door,  and  hoped  to  escape  unseen.  **  Eh, 
what's  this,  I  say?" 


THE    QUABEEL.  177 

"  What!  "  cried  Bubbleton,  "  what  do  I  see  ? — a  nymph 
with  bright  and  flowing  hair — a  hag  like  Hecuba,  by 
Jove !  Tom  Burke,  my  man,  how  comes  the  damsel 
here?" 

"  'Tis  Kitty,  ould  Kitty  Cole,  your  honour.  The  young 
gentleman  was  buying  a  ballad  from  me,  the  Heavens 
prosper  him !  "  said  Darby. 

"  Nothing  treasonous,  I  hope — no  disloyal  effusion, 
Tom  ;  no  scandal  about  Queen  Elizabeth,  my  boy,  eh  ?  " 

"  Come,  old  lady,"  said  Cradock,  "  let's  have  the  latest 
novelty  of  the  Liberty." 

"  Yes,"  said  Bubbleton,    "  strike  the   harp  in  praise 

of Confound  the  word !  " 

"  Hang  the  old  crone !  "  broke  in  Hilliard.  "  Here  are 
the  cards.  The  game  stands  thus :  a  spade  is  led — you've 
got  none ;  hearts  are  trumps." 

"No,  you  mistake;  the  diamond's  the  trump,"  said 
Cradock. 

"  I  cry  halt,"  said  Crofts,  holding  tip  both  his  hands ; 
"  the  first  thing  is,  what's  the  bet  ?  " 

"  Anything  you  like,"  cried  Bubbleton ;  "  fifty — a  hun- 
dred— five  hundred." 

"  Be  it  then  five  hundred;  I  take  you,"  said  Crofts, 
coolly,  taking  a  memorandum-book  from  his  pocket. 

"  No,  no,"  interposed  Hilliard ;  "Bubbleton,  you  shan't 
do  any  such  thing ;  five — ten — twenty,  if  you  wish,  but 
I'll  not  stand  by  at  such  a  wager." 

"  Well,  then,  if  twenty  be  as  much  as  you  have  got 
permission  to  bet,"  replied  Crofts,  insolently,  "  there's 
my  stake."  So  saying  he  threw  a  note  on  the  table,  and 
looked  over  at  Bubbleton,  as  if  awaiting  his  doing  the 
same. 

I  saw  my  poor  friend's  embarrassment,  and,  without 
stirring  from  my  place,  slipped  a  note  into  his  hand  in 
silence ;  a  squeeze  of  his  fingers  replied  to  me,  and  the 
same  instant  he  threw  the  crumpled  piece  of  paper  down, 
and  cried  out,  "  Now  for  it — decide  the  point." 

Crofts  at  once  drew  his  chair  to  the  table,  and  began 
with  the  utmost  coolness  to  arrange  the  cards ;  while  the 
others,  deeply  interested  in  the  point  at  issue,  looked  on 
without  speaking.  I  thought  this  a  good  opportunity  for 
Darby  to  effect  his  escape,  and,  raising  my  hand  noise- 


178  TOM    BUKKE    OF    "  OUKS." 

lessly,  I  pointed  to  the  door.  Darby,  who  had  been  only 
waiting  for  the  fortunate  moment,  stole  quietly  towards 
it ;  but,  while  his  hand  was  on  the  lock,  Crofts  lifted  his 
eyes  towards  me,  and  then  throwing  them  half  round, 
intimated  at  once  that  he  observed  the  manoeuvre.  The 
blood  suffused  my  face  and  temples,  and  though  I  saw 
the  door  close  behind  the  piper,  I  could  not  recover  from 
my  embarrassment,  or  the  fear  that  pressed  on  me  lest 
Crofts  should  have  penetrated  the  secret  of  Darby's  dis- 
guise, and  augured  from  the  fact  something  to  my  dis- 
credit. 

"The  game  is  now  arranged,"  said  he.  "The  spade 
being  led  here,  the  second  player  follows  suit,  the  third, 
having  none,  trumps  the  card,  and  is  overtrumped  by  the 
last  in  play ;  the  trick  is  lost,  therefore,  and,  with  it,  the 
game." 

"No,  no,"  interrupted  Bubbleton,  "you  mistake  alto- 
gether ;  the  diamond — no,  the  heart — I  mean  the — the 

what  the  deuce  is  it  ?  I  say,  Cradock,  I  had  it  all  correct 
a  minute  ago — how  is  it,  old  fellow  ?  " 

"  Why,  you've  lost,  that's  all,"  said  the  other,  as  he 
looked  intently  on  the  table,  and  seemed  to  consider  the 
point. 

"  Yes,  Bubbleton,  there's  no  doubt  about  it — you've  lost 
— we  forgot  all  about  the  last  player,"  said  Hilliard. 

A  violent  knocking  at  the  outer  door  drowned  the  voices 
of  all  within,  while  a  gruff  voice  shouted  out, — 

"Captain  Bubbleton,  the  grand  round  is  coming  up 
Parliament-Street. " 

Bubbleton  snatched  up  his  sword,  and  dashing  through 
the  room,  was  followed  by  the  others  in  a  roar  of  laughter. 
Crofts  alone  remaining  behind,  proceeded  leisurely  to  open 
the  folded  piece  of  bank  paper  that  lay  before  him,  while  I 
stood  opposite  unable  to  take  my  eyes  from  him.  Slowly 
unfolding  the  note,  he  flattened  it  with  his  hand,  and  then 
proceeded  to  read  aloud,  "  Payez  au  porteur  la  somme  de 
deux  mille  livres " 

"I  beg  pardon,"  interrupted  I;  "there's  a  mistake 
there — that  belongs  to  me." 

"  I  thought  as  much,"  replied  Crofts,  with  a  very  pecu- 
liar smile — "  I  scarcely  supposed  my  friend  Bubbleton 
had  gone  so  far." 


THE    QUARREL.  179 

"  There's  the  sum,  sir,"  said  T,  endeavouring  to  control 
my  temper,  and  only  eager  to  regain  possession  of  what 
would  at  once  have  compromised  me,  if  discovered.  "  This 
is  what  Captain  Bubbleton  lost — twenty  pounds,  if  I  mis- 
take not." 

"  I  must  entreat  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Crofts,  folding 
np  the  French  billet  de  banque.  "  My  wager  was  not  with 
you,  nor  can  I  permit  you  to  pa}  it.  This  is  at  present 
my  property,  and  remains  so  until  Uaptain  Bubbleton  de- 
mands it  from  me." 

I  was  struck  dumb  by  the  manner  in  which  these  words 
were  spoken.  It  was  clear  to  me,  that  not  only  he  sus- 
pected the  disguise  of  the  ballad-singer,  but  that  by  the  dis- 
covery of  the  French  note  he  connected  his  presence  with 
its  being  in  my  possession.  Bousing  myself  for  the  effort, 
I  said,  "  You  force  me,  sir,  to  speak  of  what  nothing  short 
of  the  circumstance  could  have  induced  me  to  allude  to.  It 
was  I  gave  Captain  Bubbleton  that  note.  I  gave  it  in  mis- 
take, for  this  one." 

"  I  guessed  as  much,  sir,"  was  the  cool  answer  of  Crofts, 
as  he  placed  the  note  in  his  pocket-book  and  clasped  it ; 
"  but  I  cannot  permit  your  candid  explanation  to  alter  the 
determination  1  have  already  come  to — even  had  I  not  the 
stronger  motive,  which  as  an  officer  in  His  Majesty's  pay 
I  possess,  to  inform  the  Government,  on  such  infallible 
evidence,  how  deeply  interested  our  French  neighbours  are 
in  our  welfare,  when  they  supply  us  with  a  commodity 
which  report  says  is  scarce  enough  among  themselves." 

"  Do  not  suppose,  sir,  that  your  threat — for  as  such  I 
understand  it-— has  any  terror  for  me ;  there  is,  it's  true, 
another  whose  safety  might  be  compromised  by  any  step 
you  might  take  in  this  affair  ;  but  when  I  tell  you  that  it 
is  one  who  never  did,  never  could  have  injured  you,  and, 
moreover,  that  nothing  treasonous  or  disloyal  lies  beneath 
your  discovery " 

"  You  are  really  taking  a  vast  deal  of  trouble,  Mr.  Burke," 
said  he,  stopping  me  with  a  cold  smile  ;  ''  which  I  am 
forced  to  say  is  unnecessary.  Your  explanation  of  how 
this  billet  de  banque  came  into  your  possession  may  be  re- 
quired elsewhere,  and  will,  I  am  certain,  meet  with  every 
respect  and  attention.  As  for  me,  an  humble  captain, 
with  only  one  principle  to  sustain  me,  one  clue  to  guide 


180  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OTTH8." 

me,  in  what  I  am  disposed  to  consider  a  question  of  some 
importance,  I  shall  certainly  ask  advice  of  others  better 
able  to  direct  me." 

"  You  refuse,  then,  sir,  to  restore  me  what  I  have  assured 
you  is  mine  ?  " 

"  And  what  I  have  no  doubt  whatever  you  are  correct 
in  calling  so,"  added  he  contemptuously. 

"  And  you  persist  in  the  refusal  ?  "  said  I,  in  a  voice 
which  unhappily  betrayed  more  temper  than  I  had  yet 
shown. 

"  Even  so,  sir,"  said  he,  moving  towards  the  door. 

"  In  that  case,"  said  I,  springing  before  him,  and  set- 
ting my  back  against  it,  "  you  don't  leave  this  room  until, 
in  the  presence  of  a  third  party,  I  care  not  who  he  be,  I  have 
told  you  somewhat  more  of  my  opinion  of  you  than  it  is 
necessary  I  should  say  now."  The  insulting  expression 
of  Crofts'  features  changed  suddenly  as  I  spoke,  the  colour 
left  his  cheek,  and  he  became  as  pale  as  death  ;  his  eye 
wandered  round  the  room  with  an  uncertain  look,  and 
then  was  fixed  steadfastly  on  the  door,  against  which  I 
stood  firmly  planted.  At  length  his  face  recovered  its 
wonted  character,  and  he  said,  in  a  cool,  distinct  manner, — 

"  Your  difficulties  have  made  you  bold,  sir." 

"Not  more  bold  than  you'll  find  me  whenever  you  think 
fit  to  call  on  me  ;  but  perhaps  lam  wrong  for  suggesting  a 
test,  which  report,  at  least,  says  Captain  Crofts  has  little 
predilection  for." 

"  Insolent  cub!  "  said  he,  half  drawing  his  sword  from 
the  scabbard,  and  as  hastily  replacing  it  when  he  perceived 
that  I  never  moved  a  muscle  in  my  defence,  but  stood  as 
if  inviting  his  attack.  "  Let  me  pass,  sir,"  cried  he,  im- 
petuously ;  "  stand  by  this  instant." 

I  made  no  reply,  but,  crossing  my  arms  on  my  breast, 
stared  at  him  firmly  as  before.  He  had  now  advanced 
within  a  foot  of  me,  his  face  purple  with  passion,  and  his 
hands  trembling  with  rage. 

"  Let  me  pass,  I  say,"  shouted  he,  in  an  accent  that 
boded  his  passion  had  completely  got  the  ascendant;  at 
the  same  instant  he  seized  me  by  the  collar,  and,  fixing 
Ms  grip  firmly  in  my  clothes,  prepared  to  hurl  me  from 
the  spot.  The  moment  had  now  come  that  for  some 
minutes  past  I  had  been  expecting,  and  with  my  open 


THE    QTTABBEL.  181 

hand  I  struck  him  on  the  cheek,  but  so  powerfully,  that 
he  reeled  back  with  the  stroke.  A  yell  of  rage  burst  from 
him,  and  in  an  instant  his  sword  leaped  from  the  scabbard, 
and  he  darted  fiercely  at  me.  I  sprang  to  one  side,  and 
the  weapon  pierced  the  door  and  broke  off  short ;  still 
more  than  half  the  blade  remained ;  and  with  this  he  flew 
towards  me.  One  quick  glance  I  gave  to  look  for  some- 
thing which  might  serve  to  arm  me,  and  the  same  moment 
the  sharp  steel  pierced  my  side,  and  I  fell  backwards  with 
the  shock,  carrying  my  antagonist  along  with  me.  The 
struggle  was  now  a  dreadful  one ;  for  while  he  endea- 
voured to  withdraw  the  weapon  from  the  wound,  my  hands 
were  on  his  throat,  and  in  his  strained  eyeballs  and  livid 
colour  might  be  seen  that  a  few  seconds  more  must  decide 
the  contest ;  a  sharp  pang  shot  through  me,  just  then  a 
hot  gush  of  warm  blood  ran  down  my  side,  and  I  saw 
above  me  the  shining  steel,  which  he  was  gradually  short- 
ening in  his  hand,  before  he  ventured  to  strike  ;  a  wild 
cry  broke  from  me,  while  at  the  instant,  with  a  crash,  the 
door  of  the  room  fell  forward,  tora  from  its  hinges ;  a 
heavy  foot  approached,  and  the  blow  of  a  strong  arm 
felled  Crofts  to  the  earth,  where  he  lay  stunned- and  sense- 
less. In  a  second  I  was  on  my  feet ;  my  senses  were  reel- 
ing and  uncertain,  but  I  could  see  that  it  was  Darby  who 
came  to  my  rescue,  and  who  was  now  binding  a  sash 
round  my  wound  to  stanch  the  blood. 

"  Now  for  it — life  or  death's  on  it  now,"  said  he,  in  a 
low  but  distinct  whisper ;  "  wipe  the  blood  from  your 
face,  and  be  calm  as  you  can  when  you're  passing  the 
sentry." 

"  Is  he "  I  dared  not  speak  the  word  as  I  looked  on 

the  still  motionless  body  that  lay  before  me.  Darby 
raised  one  arm,  and  as  he  let  it  go  it  fell  heavily  on  the 
ground  ;  he  stooped  down,  and,  placing  his  lips  near  the 
mouth,  endeavoured  to  ascertain  if  he  breathed,  and  then, 
jumping  to  his  feet,  he  seized  my  arm,  and,  in  a  tone  I 
shall  never  forget,  he  said,  "  It's  over  now." 

I  tottered  back  as  he  spoke ;  the  horrible  thought  of 
murder — the  frightful  sense  of  crime — the  heaviest,  the 
blackest  that  can  stain  the  heart  of  man — stunned  me ; 
my  senses  reeled,  and  as  I  looked  on  that  corpse  stretched 
at  my  feet,  I  would  have  suffered  my  every  bone  to  be 

Vol.  28— <7) 


182  TOM   BUBKB    OP    "  OURS." 

broken  on  the  rack,  to  see  one  quiver  of  life  animate  its 
rigid  members.  Meanwhile,  Darby  was  kneeling  down, 
and  seemed  to  search  for  something  beside  the  body. 

"  All  right — come  now,"  said  he  ;  "  we  must  be  far 
from  this  before  daybreak ;  and  it's  lucky  if  we've  the 
means  to  do  it."  I  moved  onward  like  one  walking  in  a 
dream,  when  horrible  images  surround  him,  and  dreadful 
thoughts  are  ever  crowding  fast ;  but  where,  amid  all, 
some  glimmering  sense  of  hope  sustains  him,  and  he  half 
feels  that  the  terrors  will  pass  away,  and  his  soul  be  calm 
and  tranquil  once  more.  What  is  it  ?  What  has  happened  ? 
was  the  ever-rising  question,  as  I  heard  Darby  groping 
his  way  along  the  dark  gallery  and  the  darker  stairs. 

"  Be  steady,  now,"  said  he,  in  a  whisper,  "  we're  at  the 
gate." 

"  Who  comes  there  ?"  cried  the  sentry. 

"A  friend,"  said  Darby,  in  a  feigned  voice,  answering 
for  me,  while  he  dropped  behind  me.  The  heavy  bolts 
were  withdrawn,  and  I  felt  the  cold  air  of  the  streets  on 
my  cheek. 

"  Where  to,  now  ?"  said  I  with  a  dreamy  conscious- 
ness that  some  place  of  safety  must  be  sought,  without 
well  knowing  why  or  wherefore. 

"  Lean  on  me,  and  don't  speak,"  said  Darby.  "  If  you 
can  walk  as  far  as  the  end  of  the  quay  we're  all  safe."  I 
walked  on  without  further  questioning,  and  almost  with- 
out thought ;  and  though,  from  time  to  time,  Darby  spoke 
to  several  persons  as  we  passed,  I  heard  not  what  they 
said,  nor  took  any  notice  of  them. 


183 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    FLIGHT. 

*  ABE  ye  getting  weak  ?"  said  Darby,  as  I  staggered 
heavily  against  him  and  gasped  twice  or  thrice  for  breath. 
"Are  ye  bleeding  still?"  was  his  next  question,  while  he 
passed  his  hand  gently  within  the  sasb,  and  felt  my 
wound.  I  endeavoured  to  mutter  something  in  reply,  to 
which  he  paid  no  attention,  but,  stooping  down,  he  threw 
me  across  his  shoulder,  and  darting  off  at  a  more  rapid 
pace  than  before,  he  left  the  more  frequented  thorough- 
fare, and  entered  a  narrow  and  gloomy  alley,  unlighted  by 
a  single  lamp.  As  he  hurried  onward  he  stopped  more 
than  once,  as  if  in  quest  of  some  particular  spot,  but 
which  in  the  darkness  he  was  unable  to  detect.  "  Oh ! 
Holy  Mother !  "  he  muttered,  "the  blood  is  soaking  through 
me  !  Master  Tom,  dear — Master  Tom,  my  darlin',  speak 
to  me — speak  to  me,  acushla!"  But  though  1  heard  each 
word  distinctly  I  could  not  utter  one — a  dreamy  stupor  was 
over  me,  and  I  only  wished  to  be  left  quiet.  "  This  must  be 
it — ay,  here  it  is,"  said  Darby,  as  he  laid  me  gently  down 
on  the  stone  sill  of  the  door,  and  knocked  loudly  with  his 
knuckles.  The  summons,  though  repeated  three  or  four 
times,  was  unheeded  ;  and,  although  he  knocked  loudly 
enough  to  have  alarmed  the  neighbourhood,  and  called 
out  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  no  one  came ;  and  the  only 
sounds  we  could  hear  were  the  distant  cadences  of  a  drink- 
ing song,  mingled  with  wild  shouts  of  laughter,  and  stil[ 
wilder  cries  of  agony  and  woe. 

"  Here  they  are,  at  last,"  said  Darby,  as  he  almost  staved 
in  the  door  with  a  heavy  stone. 

"  Who's  there  ? "  cried  a  harsh  and  feeble  voice  from 
within. 

"  'Tis  me,  Molly — 'tis  Darby  M'Keown.  Open  quick, 
for  the  love  of  Heaven — here's  a  young  gentleman  bleedin* 
to  death,  on  the  steps." 


184  TOM  BUREJS   OF   "  OURS." 

"  Ugh !  there's  as  good  as  ever  he  was,  and  going  as 
fast,  too,  here  within,"  said  the  crone  "  3Te  must  take 
him  away — he  wouldn't  mind  him  now  for  a  king's 
ransom." 

"  111  break  open  the  door  this  minit,"  said  Darby,  with 
a  horrible  oath,  "  av  ye  don't  open  it." 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha !  "  laughed  the  hag.  "  If  ye  wor  Darby 
M'Keown,  ye'd  know  well  how  easy  that  is  ;  try  it — try  it, 
acushla !  oak  timber  and  nails  is  able  to  bear  all  you'll  do  ! " 

'*  See,  now,"  said  Darby,  dropping  his  voice  to  a  whisper 
— "  see,  Molly,  here's  five  goold  guineas  for  ye,  av  ye'll  let 
us  in — 'tis  a  man's  life's  on  it,  and  one  I'd  give  my  own 
for  twice  over." 

"  Av  ye  offered  me  forty,"  replied  she,  "  I  darn't  do  it. 
Ye  don't  know  the  sorrow  that's  here  this  night.  'Tis  Dan 
Fortescue  is  going.  I'm  coming,  I'm  coming,"  muttered 
she  to  some  call  from  within.  And  then,  without  waiting 
to  hear  more,  she  shuffled  back  along  the  passage,  and  left 
us  once  more  alone. 

"  There's  nothing  for  it  but  this  now,"  said  Darby,  as, 
retiring  a  few  paces,  he  dashed  his  shoulder  against  the 
door  with  all  his  force  ;  but,  though  a  powerful  man,  and 
though  every  window  rattled  and  trembled  with  the 
tremendous  shock,  the  strong  panels  withstood  the  stroke, 
and  never  yielded  in  the  least.  "  'Tis  no  use  firing  through 
the  lock,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  despair.  "  Blessed  Joseph ! 
what's  to  be  done  ?  " 

As  he  spoke,  the  light  tread  of  a  barefooted  child  was 
heard  coming  up  the  lane,  and  the  same  moment  a  little 
girl  approached  the  door ;  she  carried  a  cup  in  her  hand, 
and  held  it  carefully,  as  if  fearful  of  spilling  its  contents. 
As  she  neared  the  door,  she  seemed  uncertain  how  to  pro- 
ceed, and  at  last,  as  if  gaining  courage,  tapped  twice  at  it 
with  her  knuckles. 

"  Don't  ye  know  me,  Nora  ?  "  said  Darby ;  "  don't  ye 
know  Darby  the  Blast  f  " 

"  Ah  !  Mister  M'Keown,  is  this  you  ?  Ah !  I'm  afeard 
it's  little  use  there  is  in  coming  here  to-night.  Mr.  For- 
tescue's  dying  within,  and  Doctor  Kenagh  can't  leave  him. 
I'm  bringing  him  this  to  take,  but " 

"  Nora,  dear,"  said  Darby,  "  I've  a  secret  for  Mr.  For- 
tescue, and  must  see  him  before  he  dies.  Here's  a  crown, 


THE    FLIGHT.  185 

my  darlin',  and  don't  tell  any  one  I  gave  it  to  ye."  Here 
he  stooped  down,  and  whispered  rapidly  some  words  in 
her  ear. 

"  Who's  there  ?  "  broke  in  the  hag's  voice  from  within. 

"'Tis  me — Nora,"  said  the  child,  boldly. 

"  Are  ye  alone,  there — do  ye  see  any  one  about  the 
door?" 

"  Sorra  one ;  can't  you  let  me  in  out  of  the  cowld  ?  " 

"  Come  in  quick,  then,"  said  the  crone,  as  she  opened 
the  door  carefully,  and  only  wide  enough  to  let  the  child 
p  ,ss  ;  but  the  same  instant  Darby  dashed  forward  his  foot, 
and,  flinging  the  door  full  wide,  seized  me  by  the  collar, 
and  dragged  me  in  after  him,  closing  the  door  at  once 
behind  him.  The  screams  of  the  hag,  though  loud  and 
vehement,  were  as  unheeded  as  were  Darby's  own  efforts 
to  attract  notice  half  an  hour  before. 

"  Be  quiet,  I  say — hush  yer  crying,  or,  be  the  sowl  o' 
the  man  that's  dyin',  I'll  dhrive  a  ball  through  ye."  The 
sight  of  a  pistol-barrel  seemed  at  last  to  have  its  effect,  and 
she  contented  herself  with  a  low,  wailing  kind  of  noise, 
as  she  tottered  after  us  along  the  passage. 

The  cold  air  of  the  street,  and  the  rest  combined,  had 
given  me  strength,  and  I  was  able  to  follow  Darby,  as  he 
led  the  way  through  many  a  passage,  and  up  more  than 
one  stair. 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  the  child,  in  a  whisper,  as  she  stopped 
at  the  door  of  a  room  which  lay  half  ajar. 

We  halted  in  silence,  and  listened  to  the  breathings  of  a 
man,  whose  short,  sobbing  respiration,  broken  by  hiccup, 
denoted  the  near  approach  of  death. 

"  Go  on,"  cried  a  deep,  low  voice,  in  a  tone  of  eager- 
ness ;  "  ye'll  not  have  the  cough  now  for  some  time." 

The  sick  man  made  no  reply,  but  his  hurried  breathing 
seemed  to  show  that  he  was  making  some  unwonted  effort ; 
at  last  he  spoke,  but  in  a  voice  so  faint  and  husky,  we 
could  not  hear  the  words.  The  other,  however,  appeared 
to  listen,  and,  by  a  stray  monosyllable,  dropped  at  inter- 
vals, to  follow  the  tenour  of  his  speech.  At  last  the  sound 
ceased,  and  all  was  still. 

"  Go  in  now,"  said  Darby,  in  a  whisper,  to  the  child, 
"I'll  follow  you." 

The  little  girl  gently  pushed  the  -door  and  entered,  fol- 


186  TOM   BURKE   OP    "  OURS.*' 

lowed  by  M'Keown,  who,  however,  only  advanced  one  foot 
within  the  room,  as  if  doubting  what  reception  he  should 
meet  with. 

By  the  uncertain  light  of  a  wood-fare,  which  threw  in 
fitful  flashes  its  glare  around,  I  perceived  that  a  sick  man 
lay  on  a  mean-looking,  miserable  bed  in  one  corner  of  a 
dark  room  ;  beside  him,  seated  on  a  low  stool,  sat  another, 
bis  head  bent  down  to  catch  the  low  breathings  which  the 
dying  man  gave  forth  from  time  to  time.  The  heavy 
snoring  sound  of  others  asleep  directed  my  eyes  to  a 
distant  part  of  the  chamber,  where  I  saw  three  fellows 
lying  on  the  floor,  partly  covered  by  a  blanket.  I  had 
barely  time  to  see  this  much,  when  the  figure  beside  the 
bed  sprang  forward,  and,  in  a  low  but  menacing  tone, 
addressed  M'Keown.  The  last  words  only  could  I  catch, 
as  he  said,  — 

"  And  if  he  wakes  up  he  may  know  you  still." 

"And  if  he  does,"  said  Darby,  doggedly,  "who  cares? 
Isn't  there  as  good  blood  as  his  shed  for  the  cause  ?  Look 
here!" 

He  dragged  me  forward  as  he  spoke,  and,  tearing  open 
my  coat,  pointed  to  the  sash  that  was  now  saturated  with 
the  blood  that  flowed  at  every  stir  from  my  wound.  The 
other  looked  fixedly  at  me  for  a  second  or  two,  took  my 
hand  within  his,  and,  letting  it  fall  heavily,  he  whispered 
a  word  to  M'Keown,  and  turned  away. 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Darby,  violently  ;  "  by  the  holy  mass  ! 
ye'll  not  trate  me  that  way.  Sit  down,  Master  Tom," 
said  he,  as  he  forced  me  into  an  old  arm-chair  beside  the 
fire.  "  Here,  take  a  drink  of  water.  Come  here,  doctor  ; 
corne  here,  now,  stop  the  bleeding;  stand  by  me  this 

wonst,  and  by  this "  Here  he  crossed  his  fingers 

before  him,  and  looked  fervently  upwards ;  but  at  this 
instant  the  sick  man  sprang  up  in  his  bed,  and  looked 
wildly  about  him. 

"  Isn't  that  Darty — isn't  that  M'Keown  there?"  cried 
he,  as  he  pointed  with  his  finger.  "  Darby,"  he  continued, 
in  a  low  clear  whisper — '*  Darby,  see  here,  my  boy ;  you 
often  said  I'd  do  nothing  for  the  cause.  Is  this  nothing?  " 
He  threw  back  the  bedclothes  as  he  spoke,  and  disclosed  a 
ghastly  wound  that  divided  his  chest,  exposing  the  carti- 
lage of  the  ribs,  which  stood  out  amid  the  welling  blood 


THE    FLIGHT.  187 

that  oozed  forth  with  every  respiration  he  made.  "  Is  it 
nothing  that  I  gave  up  rank,  and  place,  and  fortune,  the 
broad  acres  that  were  in  my  family  for  three  centuries — 
all  my  hopes,  all  my  prospects " 

"  And  if  you  did,"  interrupted  M'Keown,  hastily,  "  you. 
knew  what  for." 

"  I  knew  what  for!  "  repeated  the  sick  man,  as  a  deadly 
smile  played  upon  his  livid  face  and  curled  his  white  lip  ; 
*'  I  know  it  now,  at  least :  to  leave  my  inheritance  to  a 
bastard— to  brand  my  name  with  disgrace  and  dishonour 

-  -to  go  clown  to  the  grave  a  traitor,  and,  worse  still " 

lie  shuddered  violently  here,  and  though  his  mouth 
moved,  no  sound  came  forth ;  he  sank  back,  worn  out  and 
exhausted. 

"  Was  he  there"  said  Darby  to  the  doctor,  with  a  signi- 
ficant emphasis  on  the  word — "was  he  there  to-night?" 

"  He  was,"  replied  the  other.  "  He  thinks,  too,  he  fired 
the  shot  that  did  it ;  but,  poor  fellow !  lie  was  down  before 
that.  The  boys  brought  him  off.  That  child  is  going 
fast,"  continued  he,  as  his  eye  fell  upon  me. 

"Look  to  him,  then,  and  don't  be  losin'  time,"  said 
Darby,  fiercely ;  "  look  to  him,"  he  added,  more  mildly, 
"  and  the  Heavens  will  bless  ye.  Here's  twenty  goolden 
guineas — it's  all  I've  saved  these  eight  years — here  they're 
for  you,  and  save  hi&  life." 

The  old  man  knelt  down  beside  me,  and  slipping  a 
scissors  within  the  scarf  that  lay  fastened  to  my  side  with 
clotted  blood,  he'proceeded  to  open  and  expose  the  situation 
of  my  wound.  A  cold,  sick  feeling,  a  kind  of  half- 
fainting  sensation,  followed  this,  and  I  could  hear  nothing 
of  the  dialogue  that  passed  so  near  me.  An  occasional 
sting  of  pain  shot  through  me  as  the  dressing  proceeded  ; 
but,  save  this,  I  had  little  consciousness  of  anything.  At 
length,  like  one  awakening  from  a  heavy  slumber,  with 
faculties  half-clouded  by  the  dreamy  past,  I  looked  around 
me.  All  was  still  and  motionless  in  the  room.  The  doctor 
sat  beside  the  sick  man's  bed,  and  Darby,  his  eyes  riveted 
on  me,  knelt  close  to  my  chair,  and  held  his  hand  upon  the 
bandage  over  my  wound.  A  gentle  tap  here  came  to  the 
door,  and  the  child  I  had  seen  before  entered  noiselessly, 
»nd,  approaching  the  doctor,  said, — 

"  The  car  is  come,  sir." 


188  TOM   BUBKE    OF    "  OURS.** 

The  old  man  nodded  in  silence,  and  then,  turning 
towards  Darby,  he  whispered  something  in  his  ear. 
M'Keown  sprang  to  his  legs  at  once,  his  cheek  flushed 
deeply,  and  his  eyes  sparkled  with  animation. 

"  I  have  it!  I  have  it! "  cried  he;  "  there  never  was 
guch  luck  for  us  before." 

With  that  he  drew  the  old  man  to  one  side,  and  speak- 
ing to  him  in  a  low  but  rapid  tone,  evinced  by  the 
violence  of  his  gestures  and  the  tremulous  eagerness  of 
his  voice  how  deeply  he  was  interested. 

"  True  enough,  true  enough,"  said  the  old  man,  after  a 
pause  ;  "  poor  Dan  has  but  one  more  journey  before  him." 

"  Is  he  able  to  bear  it,  doctor  ?  "  said  Darby,  pointing 
towards  me  with  his  finger ;  that's  all  I  ask.  Has  he  the 
strength  in  him  ?  " 

"  He'll  do  now,"  replied  the  other,  gruffly ;  "  there's 
little  harm  done  him  this  time.  Let  him  taste  that, 
whenever  you  find  him  growing  weak ;  and  keep  his 
head  low,  and  there's  no  fear  of  him."  As  he  spoke,  he 
took  from  a  cupboard  in  the  wall  a  small  phial,  which  he 
handed  to  M'Keown,  who  received  the  precious  elixir 
with  as  much  reverence  as  though  it  contained  the  very 
well-spring  of  human  existence. 

"  And  now,"  said  Darby,  "  the  less  time  lost  now  the 
better.  It  will  soon  be  daylight  on  us.  Master  Tom, 
can  you  rise,  acushla  ?  Are  you  able  to  stand  up  ?  " 

I  made  the  effort  as  well  as  I  could,  but  my  limbs 
seemed  chained  down,  and  even  my  arfn  felt  like  lead 
beside  me. 

"  Take  him  on  your  back,"  said  the  old  man,  hurriedly. 
"  You'll  stay  here  till  sunrise.  Take  him  downstairs  ou 
your  back  ;  and,  when  you  have  him  in  the  open  air,  turn 
him  towards  the  wind,  and  keep  his  head  low,  mini 
that." 

I  made  another  attempt  to  stand  up  ;  but,  before  I  could 
effect  it,  Darby's  strong  arms  were  round  my  waist,  and 
I  felt  myself  lifted  on  his  shoulder,  and  borne  from  the 
room.  A  muttered  good-bye  passed  between  the  others,  and 
Darby  began  to  descend  the  stairs  cautiously,  while  the 
little  child  went  before  with  a  candle.  As  the  street-door 
was  opened  I  could  perceive  that  a  car  and  horse  stood  in 
waiting,  accompanied  by  two  men,  who,  the  moment  they 


THE    FLIGHT.  189 

Baw  me,  sprang  forward  to  Darby's  assistance,  and  helped 
to  place  me  on  the  car.  M'Keown  was  soon  beside  me, 
»nd,  supporting  my  head  upon  his  shoulder,  he  contrived 
to  hold  me  in  a  leaning  position,  giving  me,  at  the  same 
time,  the  full  benefit  of  the  cool  breeze,  which  already  re- 
freshed and  restored  me.  The  vehicle  now  moved  on  in 
darkness  and  in  silence.  At  first  our  pace  was  slow,  but 
it  gradually  quickened  as  we  passed  along  the  quay — for  as 
such  I  recognized  it  by  the  dull  sound  of  the  river  near  us. 
The  bright  lamps  of  the  greater  thoroughfares  soon  made 
their  appearance ;  and,  as  we  traversed  these,  I  could 
mark  that  our  pace  slackened  to  a  walk,  and  that  we  kept 
the  very  middle  of  the  wide  street,  as  if  to  avoid  observa- 
tion. Gradually  we  emerged  from  this,  and,  as  I  heard 
by  the  roll  of  the  wheels,  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  town. 
We  had  not  been  many  minutes  there  when  the  horse  was 
put  to  his  speed,  and  the  car  whirled  along  at  a  tremen- 
dous rate.  Excepting  a  sense  of  weight  and  stiffness  in  the 
side,  I  had  no  painful  feeling  from  my  wound ;  while  the 
rapidity  with  which  we  passed  through  the  air  imparted  a 
sensation  of  drowsiness  far  from  unpleasant.  In  this  state 
I  scarcely  was  conscious  of  what  passed  about  me.  Now 
and  then  some  occasional  halt,  some  chance  interruption, 
would  momentarily  arouse  me,  and  I  could  faintly  hear  the 
sound  of  voices  ;  but  of  what  they  spoke  I  knew  nothing. 
Darby  frequently  questioned  me,  but  my  utmost  effort  at 
reply  was  to  press  his  hand.  By  times  it  would  seem  to 
me  as  though  all  I  felt  were  but  the  fancies  of  some  sick 
dream,  which  the  morning  should  dispel  and  scatter.  Then 
I  thought  that  we  were  flying  from  an  enemy,  who  pressed 
hotly  on  us,  and  gained  at  every  stride  ;  a  vague,  shadowy 
sense  of  some  horrible  event  mingling  with  all,  and  weigh- 
ing heavily  on  my  heart. 

As  the  time  wore  on  my  senses  became  clearer,  and  I 
saw  that  we  were  travelling  along  the  seaside.  The  faint 
grey  light  of  breaking  day  shed  a  cold  gleam  across  the 
green  water,  which  plashed  with  a  mournful  cadence  on 
the  low,  flat  shore.  I  watched  the  waves  as  they  beat  with 
a  heavy  sough  amid  the  scattered  weeds,  where  the  wild 
cry  of  the  curlew  mingled  with  the  sound  as  he  skimmed 
along  the  gloomy  water,  and  my  heart  grew  heavier.  There 
is  something — I  know  not  what — terribly  in  unison  with  our 


\90  TOM   BURKE   OF    "OUI,S.** 

Jaddest  thoughts  in  the  dull  plash  of  the  sea  at  night :  the 
loudest  thunders  of  the  storm,  when  white-crested  waves 
rise  high,  and  break  in  ten  thousand  eddies  on  the  dark 
rocks,  are  not  so  suggestive  of  melancholy  as  the  sighing 
moan  of  the  midnight  tide.  Long-buried  griefs,  long- 
forgotten  sorrows,  rise  up  as  we  listen ;  and  we  feel  as 
though  that  wailing  cry  were  the  funeral  chant  over 
cherished  hopes  and  treasured  aspirations.  From  my  dark 
musings  I  was  roused  suddenly  by  Darby's  voice  asking  of 
the  men  who  sat  at  the  opposite  side,  how  the  wind 
was  ? 

"  Westing  by  south,"  replied  one,  "  as  fair  as  need  be, 
if  there  was  enough  of  it — but  who  knows,  we  may  have 
a  capful  yet,  when  the  sun  gets  up." 

"  We'll  not  have  long  to  wait  for  that,"  cried  the  other 
— "  see  there." 

I  lifted  my  eyes  as  he  spoke,  and  beheld  the  pink  staiu 
of  coming  day  rising  above  the  top  of  a  large  mountain. 

"  That's  Howth,"  said  Darby,  seizing  with  eagerness  the 
proof  of  my  returning  senses. 

"  Come,  press  on,  as  fast  as  you  can,"  said  one  of  the 
men  ;  "  we  must  catch  the  ebb,  or  we'll  never  do  it." 

"  Where  does  she  lie  ?  "  said  Darby,  in  a  low  whisper. 

"  Under  the  cliffs,  in  Bolskaton  Bay,"  said  the  last 
speaker,  whom  I  now  perceived,  by  his  dress  and  language, 
to  be  a  sailor. 

My  curiosity  was  now  excited  to  the  utmost  to  know 
whither  we  were  bound,  and  with  an  effort  I  articulated 
the  one  word,  "Where?"  Darby's  eyes  brightened  as 
I  spoke,  he  pressed  my  hand  firmly  within  his,  but 
made  no  reply.  Attributing  his  silence  to  caution,  I 
pressed  him  no  further ;  and,  indeed,  already  my  former 
indifference  came  back  on  me,  and  I  felt  listless  as  before. 

"  Turn  off  there  to  the  right,"  cried  the  sailor  to  the 
driver ;  and  suddenly  we  left  the  high  road,  and  entered  a 
narrow  byway,  which  seemed  to  lead  along  the  side  of  the 
mountain  close  to  the  water's  edge.  Before  we  had  pro- 
ceeded far  in  this  direction,  a  long,  low  whistle  was  heard 
from  a  distance. 

"  Stop  there,  stop,"  said  the  sailor,  as  he  knelt  upon  the 
car,  and  replied  to  the  signal.  ".  Ay,  all  right,  there  they 
we,"  said  he,  as,  pointing  to  a  little  creek  between  the  rock* 


THE    FLIGHT.  191 

below  ns,  we  saw  a  small  row-boat  with  six  men  lying  on 
their  oars. 

"  Can't  he  wal-k?"  said  the  sailor,  in  a  half  whisper,  as 
he  stood  beside  the  car.  "  Well,  let's  lose  no  more  time, 
we'll  take  him  down  between  ns." 

" No,  no,"  said  Darby;  " pnt  him  on  my  back,  I'll  do  it 
myself." 

"  The  ground's  slippier  than  you  take  it,"  said  the  other ; 
"  my  way's  the  safest." 

With  that,  he  lifted  me  from  the  car,  and  placing  me 
between  Darby  and  himself,  they  grasped  each  other's 
hands  beneath  me,  and  soon  began  a  descent  which  I  saw 
would  have  been  perfectly  impracticable  for  one  man  to 
have  accomplished  with  another  on  his  back. 

During  the  time  my  desire  to  know  where  they  were 
bringing  me  again  grew  stronger  than  ever;  and,  as  J 
turned  to  ask  Darby,  I  perceived  that  the  tears  were  cours- 
ing each  other  fast  down  his  weather-beaten  cheeks,  while 
his  lips  shook  and  trembled  like  one  in  an  ague. 

"Mind  your  footing  there,  my  man,  I  say,"  cried  the 
sailor,  "  or  you'll  have  us  over  the  cliff." 

"  Round  the  rock  to  the  left  there,"  cried  a  voice  from 
below  ;  "  that's  it,  that's  it — now  you're  all  right ;  steady 
there  ;  give  me  your  hand." 

As  he  spoke,  two  men  advanced  from  the  boat,  and 
assisted  us  down  the  sloping  beach,  where  the  wet  sea- 
weed made  every  step  a  matter  of  difficulty. 

*'  Lay  him  in  the  stern  there — gently,  lads,  gently,"  said 
the  voice  of  one  who  appeared  the  chief  amongst  them  ; 
"  that's  it ;  throw  those  jackets  under  his  head.  I  say, 
piper,  ar'n't  you  coming  with  us  ?  " 

But  Darby  could  not  speak  one  word.  A  livid  pallor 
was  over  his  features,  and  the  tears  fell,  drop  by  drop, 
upon  his  cheek. 

"  Master  Tom,"  said  he,  at  length,  as  his  lips  almost 
touched  me — "  my  child,  my  heart's  blood,  you  won't  for- 
get poor  Darby.  Ye'll  be  a  great  man  yet — ye'll  be  all 
I  wish  ye.  But  will  you  remember  a  poor  man  like  me  ?  " 

"  Jump  ashore  there,  my  good  fellow,"  cried  the  cox- 
Bwam  ;  "  we'll  have  enough  to  do  to  round  the  point  before 
$he  tide  ebbs." 

"  One  minit  more — and  God  love  ye  for  it," 


192  TOM   BURKE   OF   "  OURS." 

in  a  voice  of  imploring  accent ;  "  who  knows  will  we  ever 
meet  again.  'Tis  the  last  time,  maybe,  I'll  ever  look 
on  him." 

I  could  but  press  his  hand  to  my  heart ;  for  my  agita- 
tion increased  the  debility  I  felt,  and  every  effort  to  speak 
was  in  vain. 

"  One  half  minit  more — if  it's  only  that  he'll  be  able  to 
say,  '  God  bless  you,  Darby!'  and  I'll  be  happy." 

"  Push  off,  my  lads,"  shouted  the  sailor,  sternly  ;  and  as 
he  spoke  the  oars  plashed  heavily  in  the  sea,  and  the  boat 
rocked  over  with  the  impulse.  Twice  the  strong  stroke 
of  the  oars  sent  the  craft  through  the  clear  water,  when 
the  piper  clasped  his  arm  wildly  around  me,  and  kissing 
me  on  the  cheek,  he  sprang  over  the  side.  The  waves 
were  nearly  to  his  shoulders  ;  but  in  a  few  seconds  he  had 
buffeted  through  them,  and  stood  upon  the  ehore.  With 
a  last  effort  I  waved  my  hand  in  adieu ;  and  as  I  sank 
back  exhausted,  I  heard  a  wild  cry  burst  from  him,  half 
in  triumph,  half  in  despair.  One  glance  more  I  caught  of 
his  figure  as  we  stood  out  to  sea ;  he  was  kneeling  on  the 
beach,  bareheaded,  and  as  if  in  prayer.  The  tears  gushed 
from  my  eyes  as  I  beheld  him,  and  the  long  pent-up 
sorrow  at  last  broke  forth,  and  I  sobbed  like  a  child. 

"  Come,  come,  my  lad,  don't  feel  downhearted,"  said 
the  sailor,  laying  his  hand  on  my  shoulder.  "  The  world 
can  scarce  have  been  over  rough  to  one  so  young  as  you 
are.  Lift  up  your  head  and  see  what  a  glorious  morning 
we've  got ;  and  there  comes  the  breeze  over  the  water. 
We  hadn't  such  weather  the  last  time  we  made  this  trip,  I 
assure  you." 

I  looked  up  suddenly,  and  truly  never  did  such  a  scene 
of  loveliness  meet  my  eyes.  The  sun  had  risen  in  all  his 
glorious  brilliancy,  and  poured  a  flood  of  golden  light 
across  the  bay,  tipping  with  a  violet  hue  the  far-off  peaks 
of  the  Wicklow  mountains,  and  lighting  up  the  wooded 
valleys  at  their  feet.  Close  above  us  rose  the  rugged 
sides  of  Howth  in  dark  shadow,  the  frowning  rocks  and 
gloomy  caverns  contrasting  with  the  glittering  tints  of 
the  opposite  coast,  where  every  cottage  and  cliff  sparkled 
in  the  dancing  sunlight.  As  we  rounded  the  point,  a  cheer 
broke  from  the  men,  and  was  answered  at  once.  I  turned 
my  head,  and  saw  beneath  the  tall  cliffs  the  taper  spars  of 


THE   PLIGHT.  193 

\ 

a  small  vessel,  from  which  the  sails  hung  listlessly,  half 
brailed  to  the  mast. 

"  There  she  lies,"  said  the  skipper ;  "  that's  the  Saucy 
Sal,  my  master;  and  if  you're  any  judge  of  a  craft,  I 
think  you'll  like  her.  Give  way,  lads' — give  way;  when 
that  rock  yonder's  covered,  the  tide  is  at  the  flood." 

The  boat  sprang  to  the  strong  jerk  of  their  brawny 
arms,  and  in  a  few  minutes  glided  into  the  little  creek 
where  the  Saucy  Sal  lay  at  anchor. 

Lifting  me  up,  they  placed  me  on  board  the  little  vessel, 
while,  without  losing  a  moment,  they  proceeded  to  ship 
the  anchor  and  shake  out  the  canvas.  In  less  than  five 
minutes  the  white  sails  bent  to  the  breeze,  the  water 
rustled  at  the  prow,  and  we  stood  out  to  sea. 

"  Where  to  ?  "  said  I,  in  a  faint  whisper,  to  the  sailor  who 
held  the  tiller  beside  me. 

"  Down  Channel,  sir." 

"  And  then  ?  "  asked  I  once  more — "  and  then  ?  " 

"  That  must  depend  on  the  revenue  cruisers,  I  believe," 
said  he,  more  gruffly,  and  evidently  indisposed  to  further 
questioning. 

Alas !  I  had  too  little  interest  in  life  to  care  for  where, 
and,  laying  my  head  upon  my  arm,  fell  into  a  heavy  stupor 
for  several  hours. 

The  hot  sun,  the  breeze,  the  unaccustomed  motion,  and, 
worse  than  all,  the  copious  libations  of  bran  dy-and- water 
I  was  forced  from  time  to  time  to  take,  gradually  brought 
on  fever,  and,  before  evening,  a  burning  thirst  and  throb- 
bing headache  seized  me,  and  my  senses,  that  hitherto 
had  been  but  lethargic,  became  painfully  acute,  and  my 
reason  began  to  wander.  In  this  state  I  remained  for 
days,  totally  unconscious  of  the  flight  of  time  ;  frightful 
images  of  the  past  pursuing  each  other  through  my  heated 
brain,  and  torturing  me  with  horrors  unspeakable.  It 
was  in  one  of  my  violent  paroxysms  I  tore  the  bandage 
from  my  side,  and,  reopening  my  half-healed  wound, 
became  in  a  moment  deluged  with  blood.  I  have  no 
memory  of  aught  that  followed  ;  the  debility  of  almost 
death  itself  succeeded,  and  I  lay  without  sense  or  motion. 
To  this  circumstance  I  owed  my  life,  for,  when  I  next 
rallied,  the  fever  had  left  me,  my  senses  were  unclouded, 
mv  cheek  no  longer  burned,  nor  did  my  temples  throb, 


194  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

and,  as  the  sea-breeze  played  across  ray  face,  I  drank  it  in 
with  ecstasy,  and  felt  once  more  the  glorious  sensations  of 
returning  health.  It  was  evening,  the  faint  wind  that 
follows  sunset  scarce  filled  the  sails  as  we  glided  along 
through  the  waveless  sea.  I  had  been  listening  to  the  low 
monotonous  song  of  one  of  the  sailors  as  he  sat  mending 
a  sail  beside  me,  when  suddenly  I  heard  a  voice  hail  us 
from  the  water  ;  the  skipper  jumped  on  the  half-deck,  and 
immediately  replied — the  words  I  could  not  hear,  but,  by 
the  stir  and  movement  about  me,  I  saw  something  unusual 
had  occurred,  and,  by  an  effort,  I  raised  my  head  above 
the  bulwark  and  looked  about  me.  A  long,  low  craft  lay 
close  alongside  us,  filled  with  men,  whose  blue  caps  and 
striped  shirts  struck  me  as  strange  and  uncommon,  not 
less  than  their  black  belts  and  cutlasses  with  which  every 
man  was  armed.  After  an  interchange  of  friendly  greet- 
ings with  our  crew,  for  such  they  seemed,  although  I 
could  not  catch  the  words,  she  moved  rapidly  past  us. 

"  There's  their  flotilla,  sir,"  said  the  helmsman,  as  he 
watched  my  eye  while  it  wandered  over  the  water. 

I  crept  up  higher,  and  followed  the  direction  of  his 
finger.  Never  shall  I  forget  that  moment ;  before  me, 
scarce,  as  it  seemed,  a  mile  distant,  lay  a  thousand  boats 
at  anchor,  beneath  the  shadow  of  tall  sand-hills,  decorated 
with  gay  and  gaudy  pennons,  crowded  with  figures  whose 
bright  colours  and  glittering  arms  shone  gorgeously  in  the 
setting  sunlight.  The  bright  waves  reflected  the  myriad 
tints,  while  they  seemed  to  plash  in  unison  with  the  rich 
swell  of  martial  music  that  stole  along  the  water  with 
every  freshening  breeze.  The  shore  was  covered  with  tents, 
some  of  them  surmounted  with  large  banners  that  floated 
out  gaily  to  the  breeze  ;  and,  far  as  the  eye  could  reach, 
were  hosts  of  armed  men  dotted  over  the  wide  plain 
beside  the  sea.  Vast  columns  of  infantry  were  there — 
cavalry  and  artillery,  too — their  bright  arms  glittering, 
and  Iheir  gay  plumes  waving,  but  all  still  and  motionless, 
as  if  spell-bound.  As  I  looked,  I  could  see  horsemen 
gallop  from  the  dense  squares,  and  riding  hurriedly  to  and 
fro.  Suddenly  a  blue  rocket  shot  into  the  calm  sky,  and 
broke  in  a  million  glittering  fragments  over  the  camp  ;  the 
deep  roar  of  a  cannon  boomed  out,  and  then  the  music  of 
ft  thousand  bands  swelled  high  and  full,  and  in  an  instant 


THE    FLIGHT.  105 

the  whole  plain  was  in  motion,  and  the  turf  trembled 
beneath  the  tramp  of  marching  men.  Regiment  followed 
regiment,  squadron  poured  after  squadron,  as  they  de- 
scended the  paths  towards  the  beach,  while  a  long,  dark 
line  wound  through  the  glittering  mass,  and  marked  the 
train  of  the  artillery,  as  with  caissons  and  ammunition- 
waggons  they  moved  silently  over  the  grassy  surface. 

All  that  I  had  ever  conceived  of  warlike  preparation 
was  as  nothing  to  the  gorgeous  spectacle  before  me.  The 
stillness  of  the  evening  air,  made  tremulous  with  the  clang 
of  trumpets  and  the  hoarse  roar  of  drums — the  mirror- 
like  sea,  coloured  with  the  reflection  of  bright  banners  and 
waving  pennants — and  then,  the  simultaneous  step  of  the 
mighty  army,  so  filled  up  every  sense,  that  I  feared  lest 
all  might  prove  the  mere  pageant  of  a  dream,  and  vanish 
as  it  came. 

"  What  a  glorious  sight  ! "  cried  I,  at  length,  half  wild 
with  enthusiasm.  "  Where  are  we  ?" 

"Where  are  we!"  repeated  the  skipper,  smiling. 
"  Look  out,  and  you'll  soon  guess  that.  Are  those  very 
like  the  uniforms  of  King  George  ?  When  did  you  see  steel 
breastplates  and  helmets  before?  This  is  France, my  lad." 

"  France !  France ! "  said  I,  stupefied  with  the  mere  thought. 

"  Tes,  to  be  sure.  That's  the  Army  of  England,  as  they 
call  it,  you  see  yonder ;  they  are  practising  the  embarka- 
tion. See  the  red  rockets!  there  they  go — three,  four, 
five,  six — that's  the  signal ;  in  less  than  half  an  hour 
thirty  thousand  men  will  be  ready  to  embark.  Mark  how 
they  press  on  faster  and  faster ;  and  watch  the  cavalry,  as 
they  dismount  and  lead  their  horses  down  the  steep. 
See  how  the  boats  pull  in  shore — but,  holloa  there !  we 
shall  get  foul  of  the  gun-boats — already  we've  run  in  too 
close.  Down  helm,  my  lad ;  keep  the  headland  yonder 
on  your  lee." 

As  he  spoke,  the  light  craft  bent  over  to  the  breeze,  and 
skipped  freely  over  the  blue  water.  Bach  moment  wafted 
us  farther  away  from  the  bright  scene,  and  soon  a  pro- 
jecting point  shut  out  the  whole,  save  the  swell  of  the 
brass  bands  as  it  floated  on  the  breeze,  and  I  might  have 
believed  it  a  mere  delusion. 

"  They  practise  that  manosuvre  often  enough  to  know  it 
well,"  said  the  skipper ;  "  sometimes  at  daybreak — now, 


196  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

at  noonday — and  again,  as  we  see,  at  sunset ;  and  no  one 
knows  at  what  moment  the  attack  that  seems  a  feint  may 
not  turn  out  to  be  real.  But  here  we  are  now  alongside ; 
our  voyage  is  ended." 

The  anchor  plashed  from  our  bow,  while  a  signal  was 
made  from  the  bhore,  and  answered  by  us ;  and  in  an 
instant  we  were  surrounded  with  boats. 

"  Ha,  Antoine ! "  cried  a  sous-officier  in  a  naval 
uniform,  who  sat  on  the  gunwale  of  a  long  eight-oar 
gig,  and  touched  his  hat  in  recognition  of  our  skipper. 
*'  What  news  '  outre  iner'? — what  are  we  doing  in  Ire- 
land ?  " 

"  My  young  friend  here  must  tell  you  that,"  replied  the 
skipper,  laughingly,  as  he  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder. 
"  Let  me  present  him  to  you — Mr.  Burke,  Lieutenant 
Brevix." 

The  lieutenant  saluted  me  politely,  and  then,  springing 
up,  he  jumped  gaily  on  board  of  us,  and  shook  our  hands 
vrith  great  appearance  of  cordiality. 

"  They'll  want  to  see  you  ashore,  Antoine,  as  soon  as 
may  be  ;  there  are  despatches  going  off  to-night  for  Paris, 
and  they'll  be  glad  to  send  the  last  accounts  of  the  state 
of  the  Channel." 

"  Light  winds  and  no  cruisers  are  all  I  have  to  tell 
them,  then,"  said  the  skipper. 

The  lieutenant  now  took  him  aside,  and  they  conversed 
for  some  time  in  a  low  tone,  during  which  I  occupied  my- 
self by  watching  the  sentinels  who  paraded  incessantly 
to  and  fro  along  a  low  wooden  pier  that  stretched  out  into 
the  sea,  and  formed,  with  a  promontory  at  some  distance, 
a  small  harbour.  Their  watch  seemed  of  the  most  vigi- 
lant, if  I  might  judge  from  the  low  but  continued  cry 
which  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth  of  "  Sentinelle,  prenez 
garde  a  vous  ;  "  while  from  each  boat,  across  the  harbour, 
a  sing-song  note  chanted  in  response  the  monotonous 
sounds,  "  bon  quart !  "  as  each  quarter  of  an  hour  stole 
past.  These  precautions  against  the  approach  of  any 
strange  craft  extended,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  along  the 
entire  coast  from  Dieppe  to  Ostend ;  yet  were  they  not 
sufficient  to  prevent  frequent  visits  from  the  English 
spies,  who  penetrated  into  every  quarter  of  the  camp, 
aud  even  had  the  hardihood  to  visit  the  theatre  of  the 


THE    FLIGHT.  197 

town,  and  express  loudly   their  disapprobation   of   the 
performance. 

"  You'd  better  come  ashore  with  me,  sir,"  said  the 
lieutenant.  "  Colonel  Darsenne  will  be  glad  to  ask  you 
some  questions.  What  papers  have  you  got  ?  " 

"  None,  save  a  few  private  letters,"  said  I,  somewhat 
confused  at  the  question. 

"  No  matter,"  said  he,  gaily.  "  I  hear  from  Antoine 
you  wish  to  join  the  service  here.  That  wish  is  your  best 
recommendation  to  the  colonel ;  he'll  not  trouble  you  for 
reasons,  I  warrant  you.  Conduct  Monsieur  to  the  quar- 
tier-general,"  said  the  lieutenant  to  a  corporal,  who,  with 
his  party  of  four  men,  stood  awaiting  at  the  landing- 
place  thp  arrival  of  any  one  from  the  boats ;  and  in  an 
instant,  the  men  falling  to  each  side  of  me,  took  their  way 
along  the  pier.  I  could  mark  as  we  went  that  more  than 
once  their  looks  were  bent  on  me  with  an  expression  of 
compassion  and  pity,  which  at  the  time  I  was  at  a  loss  to 
explain.  I  knew  not  then  that  the  road  we  were  taking 
was  that  which  so  often  led  to  death,  and  that  it  was  only 
on  the  very  day  before  two  Englishmen  were  shot  for 
having  ventured  on  shore  without  authority. 

The  consigne  of  the  corporal  passed  us  through  one  post 
after  another,  until  we  reached  the  open  plain,  over  which 
now  the  night  was  falling  fast.  A  lantern  at  some  dis- 
tance off  marked  the  quarters  of  the  officer  on  duty ;  and 
thither  we  directed  our  steps,  and  at  last  reached  a  small 
wooden  hut,  from  within  which  the  sounds  of  mirth  and 
revelry  proceeded.  The  voice  of  the  sentinel  who  chal- 
lenged us  brought  an  officer  to  the  door,  who,  the  moment 
his  eyes  fell  on  me,  stepped  back,  and,  passing  his  hand 
hurriedly  across  his  forehead,  muttered,  half  inaudibly, 
"  Another  already !  " 

While  he  retired  into  an  inner  apartment,  I  had  time 
to  look  at  the  singular  decorations  which  adorned  the 
walls  of  the  antechamber;  around  on  every  side,  an(? 
arranged  like  trophies,  were  grouped  the  weapons  of  dif- 
ferent arms  of  the  service,  surmounted  with  some  device 
emblematic  of  their  peculiar  character,  or  sometimes  the 
mere  record  of  some  famous  battle  in  which  they  had  pre- 
eminently distinguished  themselves.  Here  were  the  long, 
straight  swords  of  the  cuirassier  crossed  above  the  steel 


108  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

breastplate,  and  surmounted  by  the  heavy  helmet  half 
hid  in  leopard  skin,  and  bearing  the  almost  effaced  word 
"  Arcole  "  in  front ;  there  was  the  short  carbine  of  the 
voltigeur,  over  which  hung  the  red  cap  and  its  gay  gold 
tassel,  with  the  embroidered  motto,  "  En  avant"  in  gold 
letters ;  the  long  and  graceful  weapon  of  the  lancer,  the 
curved  sabre  of  the  chasseur  a  cheval,  even  the  axe  of  the 
pioneer  was  not  wanting,  displaying  at  a  glance  some 
trait  of  every  branch  of  the  mighty  force  that  bore  the 
proud  designation  of  "  La  Grande  Armee." 

I  was  busily  engaged  inspecting  these  when  the  door 
opened,  and  an  officer  in  full  uniform  appeared  ;  his  figure 
was  above  the  middle  size,  strongly  and  squarely  built, 
and  his  bronzed  features,  and  high,  bold  forehead  gave 
him  a  soldier-like  air. 

"  Your  name,  sir,"  said  he,  quickly,  as  he  drew  himself 
tip  before  me,  and  looked  sternly  in  my  face. 

"  Burke— Thomas  Burke." 

"  Write  it  down,  Auguste,"  said  he,  turning  to  a  young 
officer  who  stood,  pen  in  hand,  behind  him. 

"  Your  rank  or  profession  ?  " 

"  Gentilhomme"  said  I,  not  knowing  that  the  word 
expressed  nobility. 

"  Ah,  pardieu,"  cried  he,  as  he  showed  his  white  teeth 
in  a  grin.  "  Produce  your  papers,  if  you  have  any." 

"  I  have  nothing  save  those  letters,"  said  I,  handing 
him  those  of  De  Meudon. 

Scarce  had  his  eye  glanced  over  them,  when  I  saw 
his  colour  heighten  and  his  cheek  tremble. 

"  What !  "  cried  he,  "  are  you  the  same  young  Irishman 
who  is  mentioned  here,  the  constant  companion  and  friend 
of  poor  Charles  ?  He  was  my  schoolfellow  ;  we  were  at 
Brienne  together.  What  a  mistake  I  was  about  to  fall 
into  !  How  did  you  come,  and  when  ?  " 

Before  I  could  reply  to  any  of  his  many  questions,  the 
naval  officer  I  had  met  at  the  harbour  entered,  and 
delivered  his  report. 

'  Yes,  yes ;  I  know  it  all,"  said  Dorsenne,  hurriedly 
throwing  his  eye  over  it.  "  It's  all  right,  perfectly  right, 
Brevix.  Let  Capitaine  Antoine  be  examined  at  the  quar- 
tier-general.  I'll  take  care  of  Monsieur  here  ;  and,  to  be- 
gin— come  and  join  us  at  supper." 


THE  FLIGHT.  199 

Passing  his  arm  familiarly  over  my  shoulder,  he  led  me 
into  the  adjoining  room,  where  two  other  officers  were 
seated  at  a  table  covered  with  silver  dishes  and  numerous 
flasks  of  wine.  A  few  words  sufficed  for  my  introduction, 
and  a  few  glasses  of  champagne  placed  me  as  thoroughly 
at  my  ease  as  though  I  had  passed  my  life  amongst  them, 
and  never  heard  any  other  conversation  than  the  last 
movement  of  the  French  army,  and  their  projects  for 
future  campaigns. 

"  And  so,"  said  the  colonel,  after  hearing  from  me  a 
short  account  of  the  events  which  had  induced  me  to  turn 
my  eyes  to  France — "  and  so  you'd  be  a  soldier  ?  Eh  lien, 
I  see  nothing  better  going  myself.  There's  Davernac 
will  tell  you  the  same,  though  he  has  lost  his  arm  in  the 
service." 

"  Oui,  pardieu"  said  the  officer  on  my  right,  "  I  am  not 
the  man  to  dissuade  him  from  a  career  I've  ever  loved." 

"  .4  vous,  man  ami,"  said  the  young  officer  who  first  ad- 
dressed me  on  my  arrival,  as  he  held  out  his  glass  and 
clinked  it  against  mine.  "  I  hope  we  shall  have  you  one 
of  these  days  as  our  guide  through  the  dark  streets  of 
London.  The  time  may  not  be  so  distant  as  you  think. 
Never  shake  your  head  at  it.*' 

"  It  is  not  that  I  would  mean,"  said  I,  eagerly. 

"  What  then  ?  "  said  the  colonel.  "  You  don't  suppose 
such  an  expedition  as  ours  could  fail  of  success  ?  " 

"  Nor  that  either,"  replied  I.  "  I  am  not  so  presump- 
tuous as  to  form  an  opinion  on  the  subject." 

"  Diantre,  then,  what  is  it?  " 

"  Simply  this :  that  whatever  fortune  awaits  me,  I  shall 
never  be  found  fighting  against  the  country  under  whose 
rule  I  was  born.  England  may  not — alas  !  she  has  not 
been — just  to  us.  But  whatever  resistance  I  might  have 
offered  in  the  ranks  of  my  countrymen,  I  shall  never 
descend  to  in  an  invading  army.  No,  no  ;  if  France  have 
no  other  war  than  with  England — if  she  have  not  the 
cause  of  continental  liberty  at  heart — she'll  have  no  blood 
of  mine  shed  in  her  service." 

"  Sacristi  !  "  said  the  colonel,  sipping  his  wine  coolly, 
"  you  had  better  keep  these  same  opinions  of  yours  to 
yourself.  There's  a  certain  little  general  we  have  at  Paris, 
who  rarely  permits  people  to  reason  about  the  cause  of  the 


200  TOM   BURKE   OP    "  OURS." 

campaign.  However,  it  is  growing  late  now,  and  well 
not  discuss  the  matter  at  present.  Auguste,  will  you  take 
Burke  to  your  quarters  ?  and  to-morrow  I'll  call  on  the 
general  abou^  his  brevet  for  the  Poly  technique." 

I  felt  now  that  I  had  spoken  more  warmly  than  was 
pleasing  to  the  party  ;  but  the  sentiments  I  had  announced 
were  only  such  as  in  my  heart  I  had  resolved  to  abide  by, 
and  I  was  pleased  that  an  opportunity  so  soon  offered  to 
display  them.  I  was  glad  to  find  myself  at  rest  at  last; 
and  although  events  pressed  on  me  fast  and  thick  enough 
to  have  occupied  my  mind,  no  sooner  had  I  laid  my  head 
«n  my  pillow  than  I  fell  into  a  sound  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XXT. 

THE     "KCOLE     MILITAIRE." 

LET  me  now  skip  over  at  a  bound  some  twelve  months  of 
my  life — not  that  they  were  to  me  without  their  chances 
and  their  changes,  but  they  were  such  as  are  incidental  to 
all  boyhood — and  present  myself  to  my  reader  as  the 
scholar  at  the  "  Polytechnique."  What  a  change  had  the 
time,  short  as  it  was,  worked  in  all  my  opinions ;  how 
completely  had  I  unlearned  all  the  teaching  of  my  early 
instructor,  poor  Darby ;  how  had  I  been  taught  to  think 
that  glory  was  the  real  element  of  war.  and  that  its  cause 
was  of  far  less  moment  than  its  conduct ! 

The  enthusiasm  which  animated  every  corps  of  the 
French  army,  and  was  felt  through  every  fibre  of  the 
nation,  had  full  sway  in  the  little  world  of  the  military 
school.  There,  every  battle  was  known  and  conned  over; 
we  called  every  spot  of  our  playground  by  some  name 
great  in  the  history  of  glory  ;  and  among  ourselves  we 
assumed  the  titles  of  the  heroes  who  shed  such  lustre  on 


THE    "  ECOLE   MILITAIEB."  201 

their  country ;  and  thus  in  all  our  boyish  sports  our  talk 
was  of  the  Bridge  of  Lodi — Arcole — Rivoli — Castiglione— 
the  Pyramids — Mount  Tabor.  While  the  names  of  Kleber, 
Kellerman,  Massena,  Desaix,  Murat,  were  adopted  amongst 
us,  but  one  name  only  remained  unappropriated,  and  no 
one  was  bold  enough  to  assume  the  title  of  him  whose 
victories  were  the  boast  of  every  tongue.  If  this  enthusiasm 
was  general  amongst  us,  I  felt  it  in  all  its  fullest  force,  for 
it  came  untinged  with  any  other  thought.  To  me  there 
was  neither  home  nor  family — my  days  passed  over  in  one 
unbroken  calm  ;  no  thought  of  pleasure,  no  hope  of  happi- 
ness when  the  fe*te  day  came  round ;  my  every  sense  was 
wrapped  up  in  the  one  great  desire — to  be  a  soldier — to 
have  my  name  known  among  those  great  men  whose  fame 
was  over  Europe — to  be  remembered  by  him  whose 
slightest  word  of  praise  was  honour  itself.  When  should 
that  day  come  for  me  ?  when  should  I  see  the  career  open 
before  me  ? — these  were  my  earliest  waking  thoughts,  my 
last  at  nightfall. 

If  the  intensity  of  purpose,  the  strong  current  of  all  my 
hopes,  formed  for  me  an  ideal  and  a  happy  world  within 
me,  yet  did  it  lend  a  trait  of  seriousness  to  my  manner 
that  seemed  like  melancholy ;  and  while  few  knew  less 
what  it  was  to  grieve,  a  certain  sadness  in  me  struck  my 
companions,  on  which  they  often  rallied  me,  but  which  I 
strove  in  vain  to  conquer.  It  was  true  that  at  certain 
times  my  loneliness  and  isolation  came  coldly  on  my 
heart ;  when  one  by  one  I  saw  others  claimed  by  their 
friends,  and  hurrying  away  to  some  happy  home,  where 
some  fond  sister  threw  her  arm  around  a  brother's  neck, 
or  some  doting  mother  clasped  her  son  close  to  her  bosom, 
and  kissed  his  brow,  a  tear  would  find  its  way  down  my 
cheek,  and  I  would  hasten  to  my  room,  and,  locking  the 
door,  sit  down  alone  to  think,  till  my  sad  heart  grew 
weary,  or  my  sterner  nature  rose  within  me,  and,  by  an 
effort  over  myself,  I  turned  to  my  studies  and  forgot  all 
else.  Meanwhile  I  made  rapid  progress ;  the  unbroken 
tenor  of  my  thoughts  gave  me  a  decided  advantage  over 
the  others,  and  long  before  the  regular  period  arrived  the 
day  for  iny  final  examination  was  appointed. 

What  a  lasting  impression  do  some  passages  of  early 
life  leave  behind  them  1  Even  yet — and  how  many  years 


402  TOM   BUEKB   OP    "  OUltS." 

are  past ! — how  well  do  I  remember  all  the  hopes  and 
fears  that  stirred  my  heart  as  the  day  drew  near ;  how 
each  morning  at  sunrise  I  rose  to  pore  over  some  of  the 
books  which  formed  the  subjects  of  examination ;  how, 
when  the  grey  dawn  was  only  breaking,  have  I  bent  over 
the  pages  of  Vauban,  and  the  calculations  of  Carnot,  and 
with  what  a  sinking  spirit  have  I  often  found  that  a  night 
seemed  to  have  erased  all  the  fruit  of  a  long  day's  labour, 
and  that  the  gain  of  my  hard-worked  intellect  had  escaped 
me;  and  then  again,  like  magic,  the  lost  thought  would 
come  back,  my  brain  grow  clear,  and  all  the  indistinct 
and  shadowy  conceptions  assume  a  firm  and  tangible 
reality,  which  I  felt  like  power  !  At  such  times  as  these 
my  spirits  rose,  my  heart  beat  high,  a  joyous  feeling 
throbbed  in  every  pulse,  and  an  exhilaration  almost  mad- 
dening elevated  me,  and  there  was  nothing  I  would  not 
have  dared — no  danger  I  would  not  have  confronted. 
Such  were  the  attractions  of  my  boyish  days,  and  such 
the  temperament  they  bequeathed  to  my  manhood. 

It  was  on  the  16th  of  June,  the  anniversary  of  Marengo, 
when  the  drum  beat  to  arms  in  the  court  of  the  Poly- 
technique,  and  soon  after  the  scholars  were  seen  assembling 
in  haste  from  various  quarters,  anxious  to  learn  if  their 
prayer  had  been  acceded  to,  which  asked  permission  for 
them  to  visit  the  "  Invalides,"  the  usual  indulgence  on 
the  anniversary  of  any  great  victory. 

As  we  flocked  into  the  court  we  were  struck  by  seeing 
an  orderly  dragoon  standing  beside  the  head-master,  who 
was  eagerly  perusing  a  letter  in  his  hands  ;  when  he  had 
concluded  he  spoke  a  few  words  to  the  soldier,  who  at 
once  wheeled  round  his  horse  and  trotted  rapidly  from 
the  spot. 

Again  the  drum  rolled  out,  and  the  order  was  given  to 
form  in  line;  in  an  instant  the  command  was  obeyed,  and 
we  stood  in  silent  expectation  of  the  news  which  we  per- 
ceived awaited  us. 

"Messieurs  les  eleves,"  he  began,  when  stillness  was 
restored,  "  this  day  being  the  anniversary  of  the  glorious 
battle  of  Marengo,  the  General  Bonaparte  has  decreed 
that  a  review  should  be  held  of  the  entire  school.  Lieu- 
tenant-General  d'Auvergne  will  arrive  here  at  noon  to 
inspect  you,  and  on  such  reports  as  I  shall  give  of  your 


THE  "ECOLE  MILITATBB."  203 

general  conduct,  zeal,  and  proficiency  will  recommenda- 
tions be  forwarded  to  the  First  Consul  for  your  promo- 
tion." 

A  loud  cheer  followed  this  speech.  The  announcement 
far  surpassed  our  most  ardent  hopes,  and  there  was  no 
limit  to  our  enthusiasm ;  and  loud  vivas  in  honour  of 
General  Bonaparte,  D'Auvergne,  and  the  lead-master 
himself  were  heard  on  all  sides. 

Scarcely  was  the  breakfast  over  when  our  preparations 
began.  What  a  busy  scene  it  was !  Here,  were  some 
brushing  up  their  uniforms,  polishing  their  sword-hilts, 
and  pipeclaying  their  cross-belts ;  there,  might  be  seen 
others  conning  over  the  directions  of  field  manoeuvres, 
and  refreshing  their  memory  of  the  words  of  command ; 
some,  practised  marching  in  groups  along  the  corridor ; 
others,  too  much  excited  by  the  prospect  before  them, 
jumped  madly  from  place  to  place,  shouting  and  singing 
snatches  of  soldier-songs ;  but  all  were  occupied.  As  for 
me,  it  was  only  two  days  before  I  had  obtained  my  grade 
of  corporal;  my  new  uniform  had  only  just  come  home, 
and  I  put  it  on  for  the  first  time  with  no  inconsiderable 
pride ;  indeed,  I  could  scarce  turn  my  eyes,  as  I  walked, 
from  the  stripes  upon  my  arm  that  denoted  my  rank.  Long 
before  the  appointed  time  we  were  all  assembled,  and  when 
the  clock  struck  twelve  and  the  drum  beat  out,  not  a  boy 
was  absent ;  we  were  drawn  up  in  three  columns  according 
to  our  standing,  spaces  being  left  between  each  to  permit 
of  our  wheeling  into  line  at  the  word  of  command.  The 
head-master  passed  down  our  ranks,  narrowly  inspecting 
our  equipments  and  scrutinizing  every  detail  of  our  cos- 
tume ;  but  a  stronger  impulse  than  ordinary  was  now  at 
work,  and  not  the  slightest  irregularity  was  anywhere 
detectable.  Meanwhile  the  time  passed  on,  and  although 
every  eye  was  directed  to  the  long  avenue  of  lime-trees  by 
which  the  general  must  arrive,  nothing  moved  along  it ; 
and  the  bright  streaks  of  sunlight  that  peeped  between  the 
trees  were  unbroken  by  any  passing  shadow.  Whispers 
passed  along  the  ranks,  some  fearing  he  might  have  for- 
gotten the  whole  appointment,  others  suspecting  that 
another  review  elsewhere  had  engrossed  his  attention,  and 
at  last  a  halt'  murmur  of  dissatisfaction  crept  through  the 
mass,  which  only  the  presence  of  the  chef  restrained 


204  TOM  BURKE    OP   "  OURS." 

within  due  bounds.  One  o'clock  struck,  and  yet  no  rider 
appeared  ;  the  alley  remained  silent  and  deserted  as  before. 
The  minutes  now  seemed  like  hours — weariness  and  lassi- 
tude appeared  everywhere.  The  ranks  were  broken,  and 
many  wandered  from  their  posts,  and  forgot  all  discipline. 
At  last  a  cloud  of  dust  was  seen  to  rise  at  a  distance,  and 
gradually  it  approached  the  long  avenue ;  and  every  eye 
was  turned  in  the  direction,  and  in  an  instant  the  stragglers 
resumed  their  places,  and  all  was  attention  and  anxiety, 
while  every  look  pierced  eagerly  the  dense  cloud,  to  see 
whether  it  was  not  the  iong-wished-for  staff  which  was 
coming.  At  length  the  object  burst  upon  our  sight ;  but 
what  was  our  disappointment  to  see  that  it  was  only  a 
travelling  carriage  with  four  post-horses  that  approached ; 
no  appearance  of  a  soldier  was  there,  not  one  solitary 
dragoon — a  half-uttered  shout  announced  our  dissatis-  • 
faction,  for  we  at  once  guessed  it  was  merely  some  chance 
visitor,  or  perhaps  the  Iriends  of  some  of  the  scholars, 
who  had  thus  excited  our  false  hopes. 

The  chef  himself  participated  in  our  feeling,  and  pass- 
ing down  the  lines  he  announced,  that  if  the  general  did 
not  arrive  within  ten  minutes,  he  would  himself  dismiss 
us,  and  set  us  at  liberty.  A  cheer  of  gratitude  received 
this  speech,  and  we  stood  patiently  awaiting  our  libera- 
tion, when  suddenly,  from  the  guard-house  at  the  gate, 
the  clash  of  arms  was  heard,  and  the  roll  of  drums  in 
salute,  and  the  same  instant  the  carriage  we  had  seen 
rolled  into  the  courtyard,  and  took  up  its  station  in  the 
middle  of  the  square.  The  next  moment  the  door  was 
opened  and  the  steps  lowered,  and  an  officer  in  a  splendid 
uniform  assisted  three  ladies  to  alight.  Before  we  reco- 
vered from  the  surprise  of  the  proceeding,  the  master  had 
approached  the  party,  and  by  his  air  of  deference  and 
deep  respect  denoted  that  they  were  no  ordinary  visitors  ; 
but  our  attention  was  quickly  drawn  from  the  group  that 
now  stood  talking  and  laughing  together,  for  already  the 
clank  of  a  cavalry  escort  was  heard  coming  up  the  avenue, 
and  we  beheld  the  waving  plumes  and  brilliant  uniform  of 
a  general  officer's  staff  advancing  at  a  rapid  trot.  Tho 
drums  now  rolled  out  along  the  lines,  we  stood  to  arms 
— the  gallant  cortege  turned  into  the  court  and  formed  in 
front  of  us.  All  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  general  himself. 


THE    "ECOLE   MILITAIRE.**  205 

the  perfect  lean  ideal  of  an  old  soldier.  He  sat  his  horse 
as  firmly  and  gracefully  as  the  youngest  aide-de-camp  of 
his  suite  ;  his  long  white  hair,  dressed  in  queue  behind, 
was  brushed  back  off  his  high  broad  forehead;  his  clear 
blue  eye,  mild  yet  resolute,  glanced  over  our  ranks,  and  as 
he  bowed  to  the  head-master,  his  whole  gesture  and  bear- 
ing was  worthy  of  the  Court  of  which  once  he  was  a 
brilliant  member. 

"  I  have  kept  my  young  friends  waiting  for  me,"  said 
he  in  a  low  but  clear  voice,  "  and  it  now  remains  for  me 
to  make  the  only  amende  in  my  power — a  short  inspection. 
Dorsenne,  will  you  take  the  command  ?  " 

I  started  at  the  name,  and  looked  round,  and  close  be- 
side him  stood  the  same  officer  who  had  so  kindly  received 
me  the  day  I  landed  in  France ;  though  he  looked  at  me, 
however,  I  saw  he  did  not  remember  me,  and  my  spirits  sank 
again  as  I  thought  how  utterly  friendless  and  alone  I  was. 

The  general  was  true  to  his  word  in  making  the  in- 
spection as  brief  as  possible ;  he  rode  leisurely  down  the 
ranks,  stopping  from  time  to  time  to  express  his  satis- 
faction, or  drop  some  chance  word  of  encouragement  or 
advice,  which  we  caught  up  with  eagerness  and  delight. 
Forming  us  into  line,  he  ordered  his  aide-de-camp  to  put 
us  through  some  of  the  ordinary  parade  manoeuvres, 
which  we  knew  as  thoroughly  as  the  most  disciplined 
troops.  During  all  this  time,  the  group  of  ladies  main- 
tained their  position  in  front,  and  seemed  to  watch  the 
review  with  every  semblance  of  interest.  The  general, 
too,  made  one  of  the  party,  and  appeared  from  time  to 
time  to  explain  the  intended  movement,  and  direct  their 
attention  to  the  scene. 

"  Let  them  march  past  in  salute,"  said  he,  at  length ; 
"  the  poor  fellows  have  had  enough  of  it ;  I  must  not 
encroach  on  the  entire  holiday." 

A  unanimous  cheer  was  the  reply  to  this  kind  speech, 
and  we  formed  in  sections  and  marched  by  him  at  a  quick- 
step. The  chef  tf'ecole  had  now  approached  the  staff,  and 
was  making  his  report  on  the  boys,  when  the  general 
again  interrupted  him  by  saying, — 

"  Madame  has  expressed  a  wish  to  see  the  boys  at  their 
usual  exercise  of  the  play  hour.  If  the  request  be  admis- 


206  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

*'  Certainly,  mon  General,  of  course,"  said  he.  And, 
stepping  forward,  he  beckoned  to  one  of  the  drummers 
to  come  near ;  he  whispered  a  word,  and  the  tattoo  beat 
out,  and,  like  magic,  every  one  sprang  from  his  ranks, 
caps  were  flung  into  the  air,  and  vivas  rung  out  from 
every  quarter  of  the  court. 

The  sudden  transition  from  discipline  to  perfect  liberty 
added  to  our  excitement,  and  we  became  half  wild  with 
delight.  The  first  mad  burst  of  pleasure  over,  we  turned, 
as  if  by  instinct,  to  our  accustomed  occupations ;  here 
we're  seen  a  party  collecting  for  a  drill,  officers  gathering 
and  arranging  their  men,  and  sergeants  assisting  in  the 
muster ;  there,  were  others,  armed  with  spades  and  shovels, 
at  work  on  an  entrenchment,  while  some  were  driving 
down  stockades  and  fixing  a  palisade ;  another  set,  more 
peaceful  in  their  pursuits,  had  retired  to  their  little  gar- 
dens, and  were  busy  with  watering-pots  and  trowels 
The  section  I  belonged  to  were  the  seniors  of  the  school, 
and  we  had  erected  a  kind  of  fort  which  it  was  our  daily 
amusement  to  defend  and  attack,  the  leadership  on  either 
side  being  determined  by  lots.  On  this  day  the  assault 
had  fallen  to  my  command,  and  I  hurried  hither  and 
thither  collecting  my  forces,  and  burning  for  the  attack. 

We  were  not  long  in  assembling,  and  the  garrison 
having  announced  their  readiness  by  the  display  of  a  flag 
from  the  ramparts,  the  assault  began.  1  know  not  why 
nor  wherefore,  but  on  this  day  my  spirits  were  unusually 
high ;  it  was  one  of  those  chance  occasions  when  my 
temperament,  heated  and  glowing,  had  elevated  me  in  my 
own  esteem,  and  I  would  have  given  my  life  for  some 
opportunity  of  distinguishing  myself. 

I  led  my  party  on,  then,  with  more  than  common 
daring,  and  though  repulsed  by  the  besieged,  we  fell  back 
only  for  a  moment,  and  returned  to  the  assault  deter- 
mined to  succeed;  the  others,  animated  by  the  same 
spirit,  fought  as  bravely,  and  the  cheers  that  rose  from 
one  side  were  replied  to  by  shouts  as  full  of  defiance  from 
the  other.  Heated  and  excited,  I  turned  round  to  order 
an  attack  of  my  whole  force,  when,  to  my  surprise,  I 
beheld  that  the  general  and  his  staff,  accompanied  by  the 
ladies,  had  taken  their  places  a  short  distance  off,  and 
were  become  interested  spectators  of  the  siege.  This 


THE  "ECOLE  MILITAIEE."  207 

alone  wus  wanting  to  stimulate  my  efforts  to  the  utmost, 
and  I  now  returned  to  the  fight  with  tenfold  impetuosity. 
Bat  if  this  feeling  animated  me,  it  also  nerved  my  anta- 
gonists, for  their  resistance  rose  with  every  moment,  and 
as  they  drove  us  back  from  their  walls,  cheers  of  triumph 
rang  out  and  proclaimed  the  victory. 

Already  the  battle  had  lasted  nearly  an  hour,  and  all 
that  xvas  obtained  was  a  slight  breach  in  one  of  the  out- 
works, too  small  to  be  practicable  for  assault.  In  this  state 
were  matters  when  the  sound  of  a  cavalry  escort  turned 
every  eye  towards  the  entrance  to  the  courtyard,  where 
we  now  beheld  a  squadron  of  the  Landers  rouges  follow- 
iuga  numerous  and  brilliant  staff  of  general  officers. 
Scarcely  had  they  entered  the  gates  when  a  loud  cry  rent 
the  air,  and  every  voice  shouted,  "  (7V st  lull  c'est  luif" 
aiid  the  next  moment,  "  Vive  Bonaparte!  vive  le  Premier 
Consul!"  All  that  I  ever  heard  from  poor  De  Meudon 
came  rushing  on  my  mind,  and  my  heart  swelled  out  till  it 
seemed  bursting  my  very  bosom.  The  next  instant  my 
eye  turned  to  the  little  fort ;  the  moment  was  propitious, 
for  there  every  cap  was  waving,  every  look  bent  towards 
him.  I  seized  the  opportunity,  and  pointing  silently  to  the 
breach,  stole  forward ;  in  a  second  I  was  beneath  the 
grassy  rampart,  in  another  I  reached  the  breach,  the  next 
brought  me  to  the  top,  where,  with  a  shout  of  victory,  I 
called  on  my  men  to  follow  me.  On  they  came  rushing — 
but  too  late  ;  already  the  garrison  were  upon  me,  and,  over- 
come by  numbers,  I  fought  alone  and  unsupported  ;  step 
by  step  they  drove  me  to  the  edge  of  the  rampart,  already 
my  foot  was  on  the  breach,  when  with  a  spring  I  dashed 
at  the  flag-staff  and  carried  it  with  me  as  I  fell  headlong 
into  the  ditch.  In  a  moment  I  was  on  my  legs,  but  so 
stunned  and  crushed  that  I  fell  almost  immediately  again  ; 
cold  perspiration  broke  over  my  face  and  forehead,  and  I 
should  have  fainted  but  that  they  dashed  some  water  over 
me.  As  I  lay  sick  and  faint  I  lifted  my  eyes,  and  what  was 
my  amazement  to  see,  not  the  little  companions  of  the  school 
about  me,  but  the  gorgeous  uniform  of  staff  officers,  and 
two  elegantly-dressed  ladies,  one  of  whom  held  a  cup  of 
water  in  her  hand  and  sprinkled  it  over  my  brow.  I 
looked  down  upon  my  torn  dress,  and  the  sleeve  of  my 
coat,  where  the  marks  of  my  rank  were  already  half  effaced, 


208  TOM   BURKE   OF    "  OURS." 

and  I  felt  the  tears  start  into  my  eyes  as  the  remembrance 
of  my  late  failure  crossed  my  mind  ;  at  the  instant  the 
crowd  opened,  and  a  pale  but  handsome  face,  where  com- 
mand was  tempered  by  a  look  of  almost  womanly  soft- 
ness, smiled  upon  me. 

"  G'etait  bien  fait,  mon  enfant,"  said  he,  "  ires  Men  fait, 
and  if  you  have  lost  a  coat  by  the  struggle,  why  I  must 
even  see  if  I  can't  give  you  another  to  replace  it.  Mon- 
sieur Legrange,  what  is  the  character  of  this  boy  in  the 
school?  Is  he  diligent,  zealous,  and  well-conducted  ?" 

"  All  of  the  three,  general,"  said  the  chef,  bowing  ob- 
sequiously. 

"  Let  him  have  his  brevet ;  to  date  from  to-day.  Who 
are  his  friends  ?  " 

A  whispered  answer  replied  to  this  inquiry. 

"  Indeed  !"  said  the  first  speaker ;  "  reason  the  more  we 
should  take  care  of  him.  Monsieur,"  continued  he,  turn- 
ing towards  me,  "  to-morrow  you  shall  have  your  epau- 
lettes ;  never  forget  how  yon  gained  them,  and  remember 
ever  that  every  grade  in  the  service  is  within  the  reach  of 
a  brave  man  who  does  his  duty."  So  saying  he  passed 
on,  while,  overcome  by  emotion,  I  could  not  spoak  or 
move. 

"  There,  he  is  much  better  now,"  said  a  soft  voice  near 
me  ;  "you  see  his  colour  is  coming  back."  I  looked  up, 
and  there  were  two  ladies  standing  beside  me.  The  elder 
was  tall  and  elegantly  formed  ;  her  figure,  which  in  itself 
most  graceful,  looked  to  its  full  advantage  by  the  splen- 
dour of  her  dress  :  there  was  an  air  of  stateliness  in  her 
manner,  which  had  seemed  hauteur  were  it  not  for  a  look 
of  most  benevolent  softness  that  played  about  her  mouth 
whenever  she  spoke.  The  younger,  who  might  in  years 
have  seemed  her  daughter,  was  in  every  respect  unlike 
her :  she  was  slight  and  delicately  formed,  her  complexion 
and  her  black  eyes,  shaded  by  a  long  dark  fringe,  bespoke 
the  Provencal,  her  features  were  beautifully  regular,  and 
when  at  rest  completely  Greek  in  their  character ;  but 
each  moment  some  chance  word,  some  passing  thought, 
implanted  a  new  expression,  and  the  ever- vary  ing  look  of 
her  flashing  eyes  and  full  round  lips  played  between  a 
smile  and  that  arch  spirit  that  essentially  belongs  to  the 
fair  daughters  of  the  South.  It  was  not  until  my  fixed 


THE    "  ECOLE    MILITAIRB."  209 

gaze  had  brought  a  deep  blush  to  her  cheek,  that  I  felt  how 
ardently  I  had  been  looking  at  her. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  she,  hurriedly,  "  he's  quite  well  now, " 
and  at  the  same  moment  she  made  a  gesture  of  impatience 
to  pass  on.  But  the  elder  held  her  arm  close  within  her 
own,  as  she  whispered  with  something  of  half  malice — 
"  But  stay,  Marie,  I  should  like  to  hear  his  name.  Ah  !  " 
cried  she,  starting  in  affected  surprise,  "  how  flushed  you 
are ;  there  must  be  something  in  the  air  here,  so  we  had 
better  proceed."  And  with  a  soft  smile  and  a  courteous 
motion  of  her  hand  she  passed  on. 

I  looked  after  them  as  they  went ;  a  strange  odd  feeling 
stirred  within  my  heart — a  kind  of  wild  joy  with  a  mingled 
sense  of  hope  too  vague  to  catch  at.  I  watched  the  droop- 
ing feather  of  her  bonnet,  and  the  folds  of  her  dress  as 
they  fluttered  in  the  wind,  and  when  she  disappeared  from 
my  sight,  I  could  scarce  believe  that  she  was  not  still 
beside  me,  and  that  her  dark  eyes  did  not  look  into  my 
very  soul.  But  already  my  companions  crowded  about 
me,  and  amid  a  hundred '  warm  congratulations  and  kind 
wishes  I  took  my  way  back  to  the  college. 

Scarcely  was  breakfast  over  the  following  morning, 
when  the  order  arrived  for  my  removal  from  the  scholar 
quarter  of  the  Polytechnique  to  that  occupied  by  the 
cadets.  A  small  tri-coloured  cock  ade  affixed  to  my  hat  was 
the  only  emblem  of  my  new  rank ;  but,  simple  as  it  was, 
no  decoration  ever  attracted  more  envy  and  admiration 
from  the  beholders,  nor  gave  more  pride  to  the  wearer, 
than  that  knot  of  ribbon. 

"  At  number  thirteen  you  11  find  your  quarters,  Monsieur 
le  Cadet"  said  a  sergeant,  as  he  presented  me  with  the 
official  order.  I  remember  at  this  very  hour  what  a  thrill 
his  military  salute  sent  through  me.  It  was  the  first  ac- 
knowledgment of  my  grade — the  first  recognition  that  I 
was  no  longer  a  mere  schoolboy.  I  had  not  much  time 
granted  me  to  indulge  such  sensations,  for  already  my 
school-fellows  had  thronged  round  me,  and  overwhelmed 
with  me  questions  and  felicitations. 

"  Ah !  what  a  fortunate  fellow — no  examination  to  go 
through — has  his  grade  given  him,  without  toiling  for  it 
— is  it  the  cavalry,  Bui-ke  ? — are  you  a  cheval- — when  do 
you  ioin  ? — where  is  your  regiment? — shall  we  see  you 


210  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

again  ? — won't  you  write  to  us  all  about  the  corps  when 
you  join  them  ? — who  is  your  comrade  ? — yes,  tell  us  that; 
who  is  he  ?  " 

" Hafoi"  said  I,  "I  know  not  more  than  yourselves. 
You  are  all  aware  to  what  an  accident  I  owe  my  promo- 
tion. Where  I  am  destined  for,  or  in  what  corps,  I  can't 
tell ;  and  as  to  my  comrade " 

"  Ah !  take  care  he's  no  tyrant,"  said  one 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  another — "  show  him  you  know  what 
a  small  sword  is  at  once." 

"  Burke  won't  be  trifled  with,"  cried  a  third. 

And  then  followed  a  very  chorus  of  voices,  each  detail- 
ing some  atrocity  committed  by  the  cadets  on  their  newly  - 
joined  associates.  One  had  a  friend  wounded  in  the  side 
the  very  day  he  joined;  another  knew  some  one  who  wa^ 
'hrown  out  of  a  window  :  here  was  an  account  of  a  delicate 
ooy  who  passed  an  entire  night  in  the  snow,  and  died  of 
a  chest  disease  three  weeks  after  ;  there,  a  victim  to  in- 
temperance met  his  fate  in  the  orgie  that  celebrated  his 
promotion.  This  picture,  I  confess,  did  somewhat  damp 
the  ardour  of  my  first  impressions  ;  and  I  took  leave  of  my 
old  friends  with  not  less  feeling  of  affection,  that  I  doubted 
how  much  kindness  and  good  feeling  I  had  to  expect  from 
my  new  ones.  In  this  mood  of  mind  I  shook  their  hands 
for  the  last  time,  and  followed  the  soldier  who  carried  my 
baggage  to  the  distant  quarter  of  the  ecole.  As  I  entered 
the  large  court  by  the  richly  ornamented  gate,  whose 
bronzed  tracery  and  handsome  carving  dated  from  the 
time  of  Louis  XIV.,  my  heart  swelled  with  conscious 
pride.  The  fa9ade  of  the  square,  unlike  the  simple  front 
of  the  scholars'  quarters,  was  beautifully  architectural ; 
massive  consoles  supported  the  windows,  and  large 
armorial  insignia,  cut  on  stone,  surmounted  the  different 
entrances :  but  what  most  captivated  my  spirits  and  en- 
gaged my  attention  was  a  large  flag  in  the  centre,  from 
which  waved  the  broad  ensign  of  France,  beside  which  a 
sentinel  paced  to  and  fro.  He  presented  arms  as  I  passed  ; 
and  the  click  of  his  musket,  as  he  stood  erect,  sent  a  thrill 
through  me,  and  made  my  very  fingers  tingle  with  delight. 

"  This  is  number  thirteen,  sir,"  said  the  soldier,  as  we 
arrived  in  front  of  one  of  the  doorways ;  and  before  I 
could  reply,  the  door  opened,  and  a  young  oificer,  in  the 


THE    "  ECOLE    MILITAIRE."  211 

uniform  of  an  infantry  regiment,  appeared.  He  was  about 
to  pass  out,  when  his  eye  resting  on  the  luggage  the  soldier 
had  just  placed  beside  him,  he  stopped  suddenly,  and, 
touching  his  cap,  asked,  in  a  polite  tone, — 

"  Not  Mr.  Burke,  is  it?" 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  bowing  in  return. 

"  Eh,  mon  camarade,"  said  he,  holding  out  his  hand, 
'*  delighted  to  see  yon.  Have  you  breakfasted  ?  Well, 
you'll  find  all  ready  for  you  in  the  quarters.  I  shall  be 
back  soon.  I'm  only  going  to  a  morning  drill,  which 
won't  last  half  an  hour ;  so  make  yourself  at  home,  and 
we'll  meet  soon  again." 

So  saying,  he  once  more  saluted  me,  and  passed  on. 
"  Not  very  like  what  I  feared,"  thought  I,  as  I  entered  the 
quarters,  whose  look  of  neatness  and  comfort  so  pleasantly 
contrasted  with  my  late  abode.  I  had  barely  time  to  look 
over  the  prints  and  maps  of  military  subjects  which  orna- 
mented the  walls,  when  my  new  friend  made  his  appear- 
ance. 

"  No  parade  to-day,  thank  Heaven,"  said  he,  throwing 
down  his  cap  and  sabre,  and  lolling  at  full  length  on  the 
little  camp  sofa.  "  Now,  mon  cher  camarade,  let  us  make 
acquaintance  at  once,  for  our  time  is  likely  to  be  of  the 
shortest.  My  name  is  Tascher,  an  humble  sous-lieutenant 
of  the  21st  Regiment  of  Foot.  As  much  a  stranger  in 
this  land  as  yourself,  I  fancy,"  continued  he,  after  a  slight 
pause,  "  but  very  well  contented  to  be  adopted  by  it." 

After  this  opening,  he  proceeded  to  inform  me  that  he 
was  the  nephew  of  Madame  Bonaparte — her  sister's  only 
son — who,  at  his  mother's  death,  left  Guadaloupe,  and 
came  over  to  France,  and  became  an  tleve  of  the  Polytech- 
nique.  There  he  had  remained  five  years,  and,  after  a 
severe  examination,  obtained  his  brevet  in  an  infantry 
corps  ;  his  uncle  Bonaparte  having  shown  him  no  other 
"\vour  nor  affection  than  a  severe  reprimand  on  one  occa- 
sion for  some  boyish  freak,  when  all  the  other  delinquents 
escaped  scot-free. 

"  I  am  now  under  orders  for  service,"  said  he ;  "  but 
where  for,  and  when,  I  can't  tell.  But  this  1  know,  that 
whatever  good  fortune  may  be  going  a-begging,  1,  Lieu- 
tenant Tascher,  arn.  very  likely  to  get  only  the  hem  of  the 
garment." 


212  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS.*' 

There  was  a  tone  of  easy  and  frank  good-nature  in  all 
lie  said,  which  at  once  disposed  me  to  like  the  young 
Creole ;  and  we  spent  the  whole  afternoon  recounting  our 
various  adventures  and  fortunes,  and  before  night  came  on 
were  sworn  friends  for  life. 


CHAPTER  XXIL 

THB    "  TUILBRIKS  "    IN   1803. 

THE  life  of  the  cadet  differed  little  from  that  of  the  school- 
boy. The  same  routine  of  study,  the  same  daily  round  of 
occupation  and  duty  were  his.  Until  drafted  to  the  par- 
ticular corps  to  which  he  might  be  appointed,  he  only 
could  absent  himself  from  the  college  by  special  leave  ; 
and  the  most  rigid  of  all  military  discipline  prevailed  dur- 
ing the  brief  interval  which  was  to  fit  him  for  the  arduous 
life  of  a  soldier.  The  evenings,  however,  were  at  our  dis- 
posal ;  and  what  a  pleasure  it  was — the  fatigue  of  the  day 
over — to  wander  forth  into  the  city — that  brilliant  Paris 
—near  which  I  had  lived  so  long,  and  yet  had  seen  so 
little  of. 

At  first  the  splendour  of  the  shops,  the  unceasing  flow 
)f  population,  the  might  and  grandeur  of  the  public  build- 
Jigs,  attracted  all  my  attention  ;  and  when  these  wore  off  in 
fcovelty,  I  could  still  wander  with  delight- through  the  gay 
gardens  of  the  Tuileries,  and  -watch  the  sparkling  foun- 
tains as  they  splashed  in  the  pale  moonlight,  and  look  upon 
the  happy  children  who  played  about  them,  their  merry 
laughter  ringing  through  the  water's  plash.  What  a  fairy 
scene  it  was  to  watch  the  groups  as  they  passed  and  re- 
passed—came  and  went,  and  disappeared — amid  those 
dark  alleys,  where  the  silent  footstep  did  not  mar  the 


THE    "  TUILERIES  "    IN    1803.  213 

Bounds  ol  happy  voices ;  and  then,  how  have  I  turned 
from  these,  to  throw  a  wistful  glance  towards  the  palace 
windows,  where  some  half-closed  curtain,  from  time  to 
time,  would  show  the  golden  sparkle  of  a  brilliant  lustre, 
or  the  rich  frame  of  a  mirror ;  mayhap  an  open  sash 
would  for  a  moment  display  some  fair  form,  the  outline 
only  seen  as  she  leaned  on  the  balcony,  and  drank  in  the 
balmy  air  of  the  mild  evening,  while  the  soft  swell  of 
music  would  float  from  the  gorgeous  saloon,  and  falling 
on  my  ear,  set  me  a-dreamiug  of  pleasures  my  life  had 
never  known.  My  utter  loneliness  pressed  deeper  on  me 
every  day ;  for,  while  each  of  my  companions  had  friends 
and  relatives,  among  whom  their  evenings  were  passed, 
I  was  friendless  and  alone.  The  narrowness  of  my  means 
— I  had  nothing  save  my  pay — prevented  my  frequenting 
the  theatre,  or  even  accepting  such  invitations  as  the 
other  cadets  pressed  upon  me ;  and  thus  for  hours  long 
have  I  sat  and  watched  the  windows  of  the  palace,  weav- 
ing to  myself  stories  of  that  ideal  'world  from  which  my 
humble  fortune  debarred  me. 

It  had  been  years  since  the  Tuileries  exhibited  anything 
resembling  the  state  that  formerly  prevailed  in  that  splen- 
did palace  ;  but,  at  the  period  I  speak  of,  Bonaparte  had 
just  been  chosen  Consul  for  life,  and  already  the  organ- 
ization of  his  household  had  undergone  a  most  consider- 
able alteration.  In  the  early  years  of  the  Consulate,  a 
confused  assemblage  of  aides-de-camp,  whose  heavy  gait 
and  loud  speech  betokened  less  the  Coui-t  than  the  camp, 
were  the  only  attendants  on  his  person.  He  lived  in  the 
centre  pavilion,  as  if  in  a  tent  in  the  midst  of  his  army ; 
but  now  he  inhabited  the  splendid  suite  of  rooms  to  the 
left  of  the  pavilion,  de  Vhorloge,  as  it  is  called,  which 
utretch  away  towards  the  river.  The  whole  service  of  the 
palace  was  remodelled  ;  and,  without  wounding  those  pre- 
judices that  attached  to  the  times  of  the  deposed  mon^ 
archy  by  adopting  the  titles  of  chamberlain,  or  gentle- 
men of  the  chamber,  he  gradually  instituted  the  cere- 
monial of  a  Court  by  preferring  to  the  posts  about  his  per- 
gon  those  whose  air  and  manners  savoured  most  of  the 
higher  habitudes  of  society,  and  whose  families  were  dis- 
tinguished among  the  noblesse  of  the  kingdom. 

Duroc,  the  chief  aide-de-camp  of  the  General,  was  ap- 

Vol.  28— (8) 


214  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

pointed  governor  of  the  palace ;  and  it  was  said  that  the 
Consul  himself  studied  all  the  ancient  ceremonial  of  the 
old  Court,  and  ordained  that  every  etiquette  of  royalty 
should  be  resumed  with  the  most  unerring  accuracy.  The 
chamberlains  were  represented  by  prefects  of  the  palace, 
and  Josephine  had  her  ladies  of  honour,  like  any  princess 
of  the  blood  royal. 

The  Consul,  still  imitating  the  observances  of  the  Bour- 
bons, had  his  petits  levers  and  his  grand  receptions  ;  and  if 
the  new-created  functionaries  possessed  little  of  the  cour- 
teous ease  and  high-bred  habitudes  of  the  old  Court,  there 
was  in  their  hard-won  honours — most  of  them  promoted 
on  the  very  field  of  battle — that  which  better  suited  the 
prejudices  of  the  period,  and  scarcely  less  became  the 
gilded  saloons  of  the  Tuileries. 

Like  all  newly-organized  societies,  the  machinery  worked 
ill  at  first.  Few,  if  any  of  them,  had  ever  seen  a  Court ; 
and  the  proud  but  yet  respectful  obedience  which  cha- 
acterized  the  French  gentleman  in  the  presence  of  his  sove- 
reign, was  converted  into  an  obsequious  and  vulgar 
deference  towards  Bonaparte,  equally  opposite  to  the  true 
type,  as  it  was  foreign  to  the  habits,  of  the  blunt  soldier 
who  proffered  it.  But  what,  after  all,  signified  these 
blemishes?  There  was  beauty — never  in  the  brighter 
annals  of  France  had  more  lovely  women  filled  those  gor- 
geous saloons;  there  was  genius — heroism — the  highest 
chivalry  of  the  great  nation  could  scarce  vie  with  the 
proud  deeds  of  those  grouped  around  him — the  mighty 
one,  on  whom  each  eye  was  fixed  ;  and  if,  as  M.  Talleyrand 
remarked,  there  were  those  who  knew  not  how  to  walk  on 
the  waxed  floor  of  a  palace,  few  could  tread  more  finely 
the  field  of  battle,  and  step  with  firmer  foot  the  path  that 
led  to  glory.  Yet  with  all  the  First  Consul's  pride  in 
those  whose  elevation  to  rank  and  dignity  was  his  own 
work,  his  predilections  leaned  daily  more  and  moro 
towards  the  high  and  polished  circles  of  the  Faubourg  St 
Germain.  The  courteous  and  easy  politeness  of  Talley- 
rand, the  chivalrous  and  courtly  bearing  of  the  Count  de 
Narbonne,  and  the  graceful  elegance  of  Segur's  manners, 
formed  too  striking  a  contrast  with  the  soldier- like  rude- 
ness of  the  newly-promoted  generals,  not  to  make  a  pro- 
found impression  on  one  who  could,  in  the  deepest  and 


THE  "TTJILERIES"  IN  1803.  215 

weightiest  concerns  of  life,  take  into  calculation  the  most 
minute  and  trivial  circumstances. 

This  disparity,  remarkable  as  it  was  among  the  men, 
was  still  more  so  in  the  ladies  of  the  Court,  few  of  those 
newly  elevated  having  tact  enough  either  to  imitate  suc- 
cessfully the  polished  usages  of  the  old  nobility,  or  resolu- 
tion sufficient  to  maintain  their  original  habits  without 
blushing  at  their  own  want  of  breeding. 

If  I  have  been  led  somewhat  from  the  current  of  my 
own  story  by  this  digression,  it  is  merely  that  I  may  pass- 
ingly note  down  some  of  the  features  of  the  period — one 
of  the  most  remarkable  in  the  history  of  modern  Europe, 
and  one  which  already,  to  the  far-seeing  eye  of  some,  be- 
tokened the  speedy  return  to  those  very  institutions  of 
monarchy,  to  uproot  which  cost  the  best  blood  of  France, 
and  a  revolution  the  most  terrific  the  world  has  ever 
witnessed. 

And  now,  looking  back  on  the  great  career  of  that 
great  man,  no  portion  of  his  history  can,  perhaps,  present 
anything  to  compare  with  the  splendour  of  the  Consulate. 
A  long  succession  of  victories — the  spoils  of  half  Europe 
—glory  to  very  satiety  had  intoxicated  the  nation — a 
country  flourishing  in  every  element  of  prosperity — social 
order  restored — a  high  position  amid  surrounding  nations 
— and  everything  that  could  gratify  national  ambition 
obtained — France  stood  at  the  very  pinnacle  of  her  great- 
ness. Even  the  splendour  of  those  names  who  represented 
the  various  states  of  Europe  at  her  Court,  seemed  to  attest 
her  supremacy.  The  stately  and  polished  Whitworth, 
conspicuous  by  the  elegance  of  his  appearance  and  the 
perfection  of  his  aristocratic  bearing ;  the  Russian  Ambas- 
sador, Marcoff;  the  Chevalier  Azara,  the  Minister  of 
Spain,  the  courtier  of  Europe  ;  Baron  de  Cetto,  the  Envoy 
of  Saxony,  one  of  the  most  distinguished,  both  by  man- 
ners and  ability,  in  the  whole  diplomatic  circle,  were 
among  those  who  frequented  the  First  Consul's  levees, 
which  already,  in  the  splendour  of  costume  and  the 
gorgeous  display  of  uniform,  rivalled  the  most  sumptuous 
days  of  the  monarchy. 

All  the  long- forgotten  ceremonial  of  a  Court  was  restored. 
Dinners,  most  splendid  in  all  the  array  of  pomp  and 
grandeur,  were  given  every  week ;  ffctes,  that  vied  with  th« 


216  TOM  BUEKE   OP   "  OUKS.*' 

luxurious  era  of  Louis  XIV.  himself,  took  place  fre- 
quently ;  and  Paris  became  the  rendezvous  for  all  Europe, 
curious  to  behold  the  rich  trophies  of  successful  wars,  and 
mix  in  the  delight  of  a  capital  where  pleasure  reigned 
triumphant. 

The  theatre  presented  an  array  of  genius  and  talent 
hitherto  unequalled.  Talma  and  Mademoiselle  Mars  were 
in  the  very  zenith  of  their  fame,  and  obtained  a  large 
share  of  Bonaparte's  favour,  whose  tastes  were  eminently 
dramatic.  In  a  word,  a  new  era  had  commenced,  and 
every  class  and  walk,  every  condition  of  man,  seemed  re- 
solved to  recompense  itself,  by  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  for 
the  long  and  dark  night  of  trouble  through  which  it  had 
passed. 

While,  therefore,  the  Court  of  the  First  Consul  partook 
of  such  features  as  those,  the  circle  of  Josephine  possessed 
attractions  totally  different.  There,  amid,  her  intimate 
friends,  all  the  charm  and  fascination  of  French  society 
held  sway ;  each  evening  saw  assembled  around  her  the 
wittiest  and  most  polished  persons  of  the  day ;  the  gay 
and  spirited  talkers  who  so  pre-eminently  gave  the  tone 
to  Parisian  society ;  the  handsomest  women,  and  the  most 
distinguished  of  the  litterateurs  of  the  period,  found  ready 
access  to  one  whose  own  powers  of  pleasing  have  left  an 
undying  impression  on  some,  who  even  still  can  recall 
those  delightful  moments.  Such  were,  in  brief,  the  lead- 
ing features  of  the  Court  then  held  in  the  Tuileries,  and 
such  the  germ  of  that  new  order  of  things  which  was  so 
soon  to  burst  forth  upon  astonished  Europe,  under  the 
proud  title  of  The  Empire. 


217 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A   SURPRISE. 

I  WAS  sitting  one  evening  alone  in  my  quarters,  an  open 
volume  before  me,  in  which  I  persuaded  myself  I  was 
reading,  while  my  thoughts  were  far  otherwise  engaged, 
•when  my  comrade  Tascher  suddenly  entered  the  room, 
and,  throwing  himself  into  a  chair,  exclaimed,  in  a  tone 
of  passionate  impatience, — 

"  Pardieu  /it  is  a  fine  thing  to  be  nephew  to  the  first 
man  in  France  !  " 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  said  I,  when  I  perceived  that 
he  stopped  short  without  explaining  further. 

"  What  has  happened ! — enough  to  drive  one  mad. 
Just  hear  this.  You  know  how  fond  I  am  of  Paris,  and 
how  naturally  I  must  wish  to  be  near  the  Tuileries,  where 
I  have  the  entree  to  my  aunt's  soirees.  Well,  there  was  a 
vacancy  occurred  yesterday  in  the  Imitieme  hussars — a 
corps  always  stationed  here  or  at  Versailles — and  as  I  am 
longing  to  have  a  cavalry  grade,  I  waited  on  Madame 
Bonaparte  to  solicit  her  interest  in  my  favour.  She  pro- 
mised of  course.  The  General  was  to  breakfast  with  her, 
and  it  was  all  settled.  She  was  to  ask  him  for  the  pro- 
motion ;  and  I  had  not  a  doubt  of  success.  In  fact,  if 
I  must  confess,  I  told  two  or  three  of  my  friends,  and 
actually  received  their  congratulations.  It  so  fell  out, 
however,  that  he  did  not  come  to  breakfast,  nor  dinner 
either — there's  no  knowing  that  man ;  but  what  think  you  ? 
he  walked  in,  this  evening,  just  as  we  were  preparing  to 
act  a  proverb.  Such  a  scene  as  it  was,  to  be  sure.  No 
one  expected  him.  Most  of  us  were  dressed  up  in  cos- 
tumes of  one  kind  or  other ;  and  I,  ma  foi,  ridiculous 
enough,  I  suppose — I  was  costumed  like  a  galley-slave. 
He  stood  for  a  second  or  two  at  the  door  with  his  arms 
folded,  and  his  stern  eyes  wandering  over  the  whole  room. 
There  was  not  one  amongst  us  would  not  have  wished 


218  TOM    BURKE    OP    "  OURS." 

himself  many  a  mile  away :  even  my  aunt  herself  seemed 
quite  confused,  and  blushed,  and  grew  pale,  and  blushed 
again. 

" '  Ha ! '  cried  he  at  last,  in  his  dry,  short  voice. 
'Pardon,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  have  made  a  mistake — I 
believed  I  was  in  the  palace  of  the  Tuileries,  and  I  find 
this  is  the  Porte  St.  Martin.' 

'* '  Fi  done,  Bonaparte  ! '  cried  my  aunt,  blushing,  while 
with  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles  she  endeavoured  to  bring 
him  back  to  good  humour.  *  See,  how  you  have  frightened 
Madame  de  Narbonne — she'll  never  be  able  to  play  the 
miller's  wife  ;  and  Marie  here,  her  tears  wttl  wash  away  all 
her  rouge.' 

"  '  And  this  amiable  gentleman — what  is  to  become  of 
him  ?  '  said  he,  interrupting  her,  while  he  laid  his  hand  on 
my  shoulder,  and  I  stood  trembling  like  a  culprit  beside 
him. 

"  '  Ah,  there ! — that's  Tascher,'  said  she,  laughingly  ; 
and  as  if  happy  to  escape  from  her  greater  embarrassment 
by  any  means,  she  continued:  'Your  question  comes, 
indeed,  quite  apropos.  I  have  a  request  to  make  in  his 
favour ;  there's  a  vacancy  in  the  huitieme,  I  think  it  is — eh, 
Edward  ?  '  I  nodded  slightly,  for  if  my  life  depended  on 
it,  I  could  not  have  uttered  a  word.  '  Now,  I  am  sure 
he's  been  sous-lieutenant  long  enough,  and  in  the  in- 
fantry too.' 

"  '  Can  you  ride  well,  sir  ?  '  said  he,  turning  to  me  with 
a  half  frown  on  his  pale  face. 

"  '  Yes,  General,'  replied  I,  with  my  heart  almost  choking 
me  as  I  spoke. 

" '  Well,  sir,  you  shall  be  employed,  and  in  a  service 
worthy  your  present  tastes,  if  I  may  judge  from  your  cos- 
tame.  A  detachment  of  prisoners  is  to  march  to-morrow 
from  this  for  the  Bagne  de  Brest — hold  yourself  in  readi- 
ness to  accompany  the  military  escort.  Go,  sir,  and  report 
yourself  to  your  colonel.'  He  waved  his  hand  when  he 
had  finished,  and  how  I  left  the  room,  reached  the  street, 
»nd  found  myself  here,  hang  me  if  I  can  tell  you." 

"  And  is  there  no  help  for  this  ?  must  you  really  go?" 
said  I,  compassionating  the  dejected  and  sorrow-struck 
expression  of  the  youth. 

u  Must  I  go  1     Mafoi,  you  know  little  of  this  dear  uncle 


A   SURPRISE.  219 

of  mine,  if  you  ask  such  a  question.  When  once  his 
mind's  made  up,  anything  like  an  attempt  to  argue  only 
confirms  his  resolve.  The  best  thing  now  is,  to  obey  and 
say  nothing  ;  for  if  my  aunt  remonstrates,  I  may  spend  my 
lii'e  in  garrison  there  over  the  galley-slaves." 

A  knocking  at  the  outer  door  interrupted  our  conversa- 
tion at  this  moment,  and  a  corporal  of  the  staff  entered, 
with  a  despatch-bag  at  his  waist. 

"  Sous- Lieu  tenant  Tascher,"  said  he,  touching  his  cap, 
and  presenting  a  large  official-looking  letter  to  my  com- 
panion, who  threw  it  from  him  on  the  table,  and  turned 
away  to  hide  his  confusion.  "  Monsieur  Burke,"  said  the 
corporal,  withdrawing  another  ominous  document  from 
his  leathern  pouch. 

"Diantre!"  cried  Tascher,  turning  quickly  about, 
"have  I  got  you  into  a  scrape  as  well  as  myself?  I 
remember  now  the  General  asked  me  who  was  my  '  com- 
rade.' " 

I  took  the  paper  with  a  trembling  hand,  and  tore  it 
open.  The  first  line  was  all  I  could  read ;  it  was  a  war- 
office  official,  appointing  me  to  the  vacant  commission  in 
the  huitieme  hussars. 

Tascher's  hand  shook  as  he  leaned  on  my  shoulder,  and 
I  could  feel  a  convulsive  twitching  of  his  fingers  as  his 
agitation  increased  ;  but  in  a  second  or  two  he  recovered 
his  self-command,  and  taking  my  hr.nd  within  both  of  his, 
he  said,  while  the  large  tears  were  starting  from  his  eyes, — 

"  I'm  glad  it's  you,  Burke,"  and  then  turned  away 
unable  to  say  more. 

It  was  some  time  before  I  could  bring  myself  to  credit 
my  good  fortune.  Had  I  been  free  to  choose,  I  could  have 
desired  nothing  better  nor  more  to  my  liking ;  and  when 
I  succeeded  at  length,  then  came  my  embarrassment  at  my 
poor  friend's  disappointment,  which  must  ha,ve  been  still 
more  poignant  as  contrasted  with  my  success.  Tascher, 
however,  had  all  the  Creole  warmth  of  temperament.  The 
first  burst  over,  he  really  enjoyed  the  thought  of  my  pro- 
motion ;  and  we  sat  up  the  entire  night  talking  over  plans 
for  the  future,  and  making  a  hundred  resolves  for  contin- 
gencies, some  of  which  never  arose,  and  many,  when  they 
came,  suggested  remedies  of  their  own. 

At  daybreak  my  comrade's  horses  came  to  the  door,  and 


220  TOM    BURKE    OF   "  OUBS." 

a  mounted  orderly  attended  to  accompany  him  to  the 
prison  where  the  convoy  were  assembled.  We  shook 
hands  again  and  again.  He  was  leaving  what  had  been 
his  home  for  years,  Paris — the  gay  and  brilliant  city,  in 
whose  pleasures  he  had  mixed,  and  whose  fascinations  he 
had  tasted.  I  was  parting  from  one  with  whom  I  had 
lived  in  a  friendship  as  close  as  can  subsist  between  two 
natures  essentially  different — we  both  were  sad. 

"  Adieu,  Burke !  "  said  he,  as  he  waved  his  hand  for  the 
last  time.  "  I  hope  you'll  command  the  huitieme  when 
next  we  meet." 

I  hurried  into  the  quarters,  which  already  seemed  lonely 
and  deserted,  so  soon  does  desolation  throw  its  darkening 
shadow  before  it.  The  sword  that  had  hung  above  the 
chimney  crosswise  on  my  own  was  gone ;  the  chako,  too, 
and  the  pistols  were  missing  ;  the  vacant  chair  stood  oppo- 
site to  mine ;  and  the  isolation  I  felt  became  so  painful, 
that  I  wandered  out  into  the  open  air,  glad  to  escape  the 
sight  of  objects,  every  one  of  which  only  suggested  how 
utterly  alone  I  stood  in  the  world,  when  the  departure  of 
one  friend  had  left  me  companionless. 

No  one  save  he  who  has  experienced  it  can  form  any 
just  idea  of  the  intense  hold  a  career  of  any  kind  will 
take  of  the  mind  of  him  who,  without  the  ties  of  country, 
of  kindred,  and  of  friends,  devotes  all  his  energies  in  one 
direction.  The  affections  that  might,  under  other  influ- 
ences, have  grown  up — the  hopes  that  might  have  flourished 
in  the  happy  sphere  of  a  home,  become  the  springs  of  a 
more  daring  ambition.  In  proportion  as  he  deserts  other 
roads  in  life,  the  path  he  has  struck  out  for  himself  seems 
wider  and  grander,  and  his  tar-seeing  eye  enables  him  to 
look  into  the  long  distance  with  a  prophetic  vision,  where 
are  rewards  for  his  hard- won  victories,  the  recompense  of 
long  years  of  toil.  The  pursuit,  become  a  passion,  gra- 
dually draws  all  into  its  vortex  ;  and  that  success  which 
at  first  he  believed  only  attainable  by  some  one  mighty 
effort,  seems  at  last  to  demand  every  energy  of  his  life  and 
every  moment  of  his  existence  ;  and  as  the  miser  would 
deem  his  ruin  near,  should  the  most  trifling  opportunity 
of  gain  escape  him,  so  does  the  ambitious  man  feel  that 
every  incident  in  life  must  be  made  tributary  to  the  suc- 
cess which  is  his  Mammon.  It  was  thus  I  thought  of  the 


A  SURPRISE.  221 

profession  of  arms ;  my  whole  soul  was  in  it ;  no  other 
wish,  no  other  hope,  divided  my  heart ;  that  passion 
reigned  there  alone.  How  often  do  we  find  it  in  life  that 
the  means  become  the  end,  that  the^  effort  we  employ  to 
reach  an  object  takes  hold  npon  our  fancy,  gains  hourly 
upon  our  affections,  and  at  length  usurps  the  place  of 
what  before  had  been  our  idol.  As  a  boy,  liberty,  the  bold 
assertion  of  my  country's  rights,  stirred  my  heart,  and 
made  me  wish  to  be  a  soldier.  As  years  rolled  on,  the 
warlike  passion  sank  deeper  and  deeper  in  my  nature ; 
the  thirst  for  glory  grew  upon  me,  and  forgetting  all  save 
that,  I  longed  for  the  time  when,  on  the  battle-field,  I 
should  win  my  name  to  fame  and  honour.  In  this  wise 
were  my  musings,  as  I  loitered  homeward  and  entered  my 
quarters.  A  sealed  packet,  addressed  Sous-Lieutenant 
Burke — how  that  humble  title  made  my  heart  beat — lay 
on  my  table.  Supposing  it  referred  to  my  new  appoint- 
ment, I  sat  down  to  con  it  over  at  my  leisure ;  but  no 
sooner  had  I  torn  open  the  envelope  than  a  card  fell  to 
the  ground.  I  took  it  up  hastily,  and  read,  "  D'aprfa 
I'ordre  de  Madame  Bonaparte,  fai  Vhonneur  de  vous  inviter 

a  une  soiree "    "  What !  "  cried  I,  aloud,  "  me  I — invite 

me  to  the  Palace !  There  must  be  some  mistake  here.'* 
And  I  turned  again  to  the  envelope,  where  my  name  was 
legibly  written,  with  my  grade,  and  the  number  of  my 
new  corps.  There  could  be  no  doubt  of  it,  and  yet  was  it 
still  inexplicable  ;  I  that  was  so  perfectly  alone,  a  stranger, 
without  a  friend,  save  among  the  humble  ranks  of  the 
school,  how  came  such  a  distinction  as  this  to  be  conferred 
on  me  ?  I  thought  of  Tascher ;  but  then  we  had  lived 
months  together,  and  such  a  thing  had  never  been  even 
alluded  to.  The  more  I  reflected  on  it,  the  greater  be- 
came my  difficulty ;  and  in  a  maze  of  confusion  and 
embarrassment  I  passed  the  day  in  preparation  for  the 
evening,  for,  as  was  customary  at  the  period,  the  invita* 
tions  for  small  parties  were  issued  on  the  very  mornings 
themselves.  My  first  care  was  to  look  after  the  uniform, 
of  my  new  corps,  in  which  I  knew  I  must  appear.  My 
last  remaining  bank-note,  the  sole  survivor  of  my  little 
stock  of  wealth,  was  before  me,  and  I  sat  calculating  with 
myself  the  costly  outlay  of  a  hussar  dress,  the  full  uniform 
of  which  had  not  till  now  entered  into  my  computation. 


TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

Never  was  my  ingenuity  more  sorely  tried  than  in  the 
endeavour  to  bring  the  outlay  within  the  narrow  limits  of 
my  little  purse  ;  and  when,  at  length,  I  would  think  that 
all  had  been  remembered,  some  small  but  costly  item 
would  rise  up  against  me,  and  disconcert  all  my  calcula- 
tions. 

At  noon  I  set  out  to  wait  on  my  new  colonel,  whose 
quarters  were  in  the  Place  Vendome.  The  visit  was  a 
short  and  not  over  pleasant  one  ;  a  crowd  of  officers  filled 
the  rooms,  among  whom  I  edged  my  way  with  difficulty 
towards  the  place  where  Colonel  Marbois  was  standing. 
He  was  a  short,  thick-set,  vulgar-looking  man,  of  about 
fifty  ;  his  moustache  and  whiskers  meeting  above  the  lip, 
and  his  bushy,  black  beard  below,  gave  him  the  air  of 
a  pioneer,  which  his  harsh  Breton  accent  did  not  derogate 
from. 

"  Ah,  c'e*t  "vous ! "  said  he,  as  my  name  was  an- 
nounced ;  "you'll  have  to  learn  in  future,  sir,  that  officers 
of  your  rank  are  not  received  at  the  levees  of  their 
colonel.  You  hear  me  ;  report  yourself  to  the  chef 
d'escadron,  however,  who  will  give  you  your  orders ;  and 
mark  me,  sir,  let  this  be  the  last  day  you  are  seen  in  that 
uniform." 

A  short  and  not  very  gracious  nod  concluded  the  audi- 
ence, and  I  took  my  leave  not  the  less  abashed  that  I 
could  mark  a  kind  of  half  smile  on  most  of  the  faces 
about  me  as  I  withdrew  from  the  crowd.  Scarcely  in  the 
street,  however,  when  my  heart  felt  light  and  my  step 
elastic.  I  was  a  sous-lieutenant  of  hussars,  and  if  I  did 
my  duty  what  cared  I  for  the  smiles  and  frowns  of  my 
colonel ;  and  had  not  the  General  Bonaparte  himself  told 
me  "  that  no  grade  was  too  high  for  the  brave  man  who 
did  so?" 

I  can  scarcely  avoid  a  smile  even  yet  as  I  call  to  mind 
the  awe  I  felt  on  entering  the  splendid  shop  of  Monsieur 
Crillac,  the  fashionable  tailor  of  those  days,  whose  plate- 
glass  windows  and. showy  costumes  formed  the  standing 
g)int  for  many  a  lounger  around  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de 
ichelieu  and  the  Boulevard.  His  saloon,  as  he  somewhat 
ostentatiously  called  it,  was  the  rendezvous  for  the  idlers 
of  a  fashionable  world,  who  spent  their  mornings  canvass- 
ing the  last  gossip  of  the  city,  and  devising  new  extrava- 


A    SUBP   ISE.  223 

gances  in  dress.  The  morning  papers,  caricatures,  prints 
of  fashions,  patterns  of  waistcoats,  and  new  devices  for 
buttons,  were  scattered  over  a  table,  round  which,  in  every 
attitude  of  indolence  and  ease,  were  stretched  some  dozen 
of  the  exquisites  of  the  period,  engaged  in  that  species  of 
half-ennui,  half-conversation,  that  forms  a  considerable 
part  of  the  existence  of  your  young  men  of  fashion,  of 
every  age  and  every  country.  Their  frock-coats  of  light 
cloth,  high-collared,  and  covered  with  buttons  ;  their  bottes 
a  revers  reaching  only  mid  leg,  and  met  there  by  a  tight 
pantalon  collant ;  their  hair  studiously  brushed  back  off 
their  foreheads,  and  worn  long,  though  not  in  queue 
behind,  bespoke  them  as  the  most  accurate  types  of  the 
mode. 

The  appearance  of  a  youth  in  the  simple  uniform  of  the 
Polytechnique  in  such  a  place  seemed  to  excite  universal 
astonishment.  Such  a  phenomenon  apparently  had  never 
been  witnessed  before ;  and  as  they  turned  fully  round  to 
stare  at  me,  it  was  clear  they  never  deemed  that  any  mark 
of  rudeness  could  be  felt  by  one  so  humble  as  I  was. 
Monsieur  Crillac  himself,  who  was  sipping  his  glass  of 
eau  sucree,  with  one  arm  leaning  on  the  chimney-piece, 
never  deigned  to  pay  me  other  attention  than  a  half  smile, 
as,  with  a  voice  of  most  patronizing  softness,  he  lisped 
out, — 

"  What  can  we  do  for  you  here,  Monsieur  ?  " 

Apparently  the  answer  to  this  question  was  a  matter  of 
interest  to  the  party,  who  suddenly  ceased  talking  to 
listen. 

"  1  wish  to  order  a  uniform,"  said  I,  summoning  up  all 
my  resolution  not  to  seem  abashed.  "  This  is  a  tailor's, 
if  I  don't  mistake  ?  " 

"Monsieur  is  quite  correct,"  replied  the  imperturbable 
proprietor,  whose  self-satisfied  smile  became  still  more 
insulting,  "  but  perhaps  not  exactly  what  you  seek  for. 
Gentlemen  who  wear  your  cloth  seldom  visit  us." 

"  No,  Crillac,"  interrupted  one  of  the  bystanders ;  "  I 
never  heard  that  you  advertised  yourself  as  fashioner  to 
the  Polytechnique,  or  tailor  in  ordinary  to  the  corps  of 
Pompiers." 

;<  You  are  insolent,  sir,"  said  I,  turning  fiercely  round 
upon  the  speaker.  The  words  were  scarce  spoken,  wher 


224  TOM  BUBKE   OP   "  OURS.** 

the  party  sprang  to  their  legs ;  some  endeavouring  to 
restrain  the  temper  of  the  young  man  addressed,  others, 
pressing  around,  called  on  me  to  apologize  on  the  spot  for 
what  I  had  said. 

"  No,  no  :  let  us  have  his  name — his  name,"  said  three 
or  four  in  a  breath.  "  De  Beauvais  will  take  the  punish- 
ment into  his  own  hands." 

"  Be  advised,  young  gentleman ;  unsay  your  words,  and 
jo  your  way,"  said  an  elder  one  of  the  party,  while  he 
idded,  in  a  whisper,  "  De  Beauvais  has  no  equal  in  Paris 
with  the  small  sword." 

"  There  is  my  address,"  said  I,  seizing  a  pen,  and  writ- 
ing on  a  piece  of  paper  before  me. 

"  Ha !  "  said  De  Beauvais,  as  he  threw  his  eye  on  the 
writing,  "  he  has  got  his  grade,  it  seems — all  the  better 
that ;  I  half  shrunk  from  the  ridicule  of  an  affair  with  a 
cadet.  So  you  are  serious  about  this  ?  " 

"  Sir !  "  said  I,  all  my  efforts  being  barely  enough  to  re- 
press my  rising  passion. 

"  Well,  well — enough  about  it.  To-morrow  morning — 
the  Bois  do  Boulogne — the  rapier.  You  understand  me, 
I  suppose  ?  "  . 

I  nodded  and  was  about  to  leave  the  place,  when  I 
remembered  that,  in  my  confusion,  I  had  neither  asked 
my  antagonist's  name  nor  rank.  "And  you,  sir,"  said  I, 
"  may  I  have  the  honour  to  learn  who  you  are  ?  " 

"  Pardieu  !  my  young  friend,"  cried  one  of  the  others, 
"  the  information  will  not  strengthen  your  nerves  ;  but  if 
you  will  have  it,  he  is  the  Marquis  de  Beauvais,  and 
tolerably  well  known  in  that  little  locality  where  he  ex- 
pects to  meet  you  to-morrow." 

"  Till  then,  sir,"  replied  I,  touching  my  cap,  as  I  turned 
into  the  street — not,  however,  before  a  burst  of  laughter 
rang  through  the  party  at  a  witticism  of  which  I  was  the 
object,  and  the  latter  part  of  which  only  could  I  catch. 
It  was  De  Beauvais  who  spoke.  *'  In  which  case,  Crillac, 
another  artist  must  take  his  measure."  The  allusion 
could  not  be  mistaken,  and,  I  confess,  I  did  not  relish  it 
like  the  others. 

I  should,  I  fear,  have  fallen  very  low  in  the  estimate  of 
my  companions  and  associates  could  the  real  state  of 
my  heart  at  that  moment  have  been  laid  open  to  them. 


225 

It  was,  I  freely  own,  one  of  great  depression.  But  an 
hour  ago,  and  life  was  opening  before  me  with  many  a 
bright  and  cheerful  hope ;  and  now,  in  an  instant,  was  my 
fortune  clouded.  Let  me  not  be  misunderstood :  among 
the  rules  of  the  Polytechnique  duelling  was  strictly  for- 
bidden, and  although  numerous  transgressions  occurred,  so 
determined  was  the  head  of  the  Government  to  put  down 
the  practice,  that  the  individuals  thus  erring  were  either 
reduced  in  rank,  or  their  promotion  stopped  for  a  con- 
siderable period  ;  while  the  personal  displeasure  of  General 
Bonaparte  rarely  failed  to  show  itself  with  reference  to 
them.  Now  it  was  clear  to  me  that  some  unknown  friend, 
some  secret  well-wisher,  had  interested  himself  in  my 
humble  fate — that  I  owed  my  newly-acquired  rank  to  his 
kindness  and  good  offices.  What,  then,  might  I  not  be 
forfeiting  by  this  unhappy  rencontre  ?  Was  it  not  more 
than  likely  that  such  an  instance  of  misconduct,  the  very 
day  of  my  promotion,  might  determine  the  whole  tenor  of 
my  future  career?  What  misrepresentation  might  not 
gain  currency  about  my  conduct  ?  These  were  sad  re- 
flections indeed,  and  every  moment  but  increased  them. 

When  I  reached  the  college,  I  called  on  one  of  my 
friends ;  but  not  finding  him  in  his  quarters,  I  wrote  a 
few  lines,  begging  he  would  come  over  to  me  the  moment 
he  returned.  This  done,  I  sat  down  alone,  to  think  over 
my  adventure,  and  devise,  if  I  could,  some  means  to  pre- 
vent its  publicity,  or,  if  not  that,  its  being  garbled  and 
misstated.  Hour  after  hour  rolled  past — my  wandering 
thoughts  took  no  note  of  time — and  the  deep-tolled 
bell  of  the  Polytechnique  struck  eight  before  I  was  aware 
the  day  was  nearly  over.  Nine  was  the  hour  mentioned  on 
my  card  of  invitation  ;  it  flashed  suddenly  on  me.  What 
was  to  be  done  ?  I  had  no  uniform  save  that  of  the 
"  ecole."  Such  a  costume  in  such  a  place  would,  I 
feared,  be  considered  too  ridiculous ;  yet  to  absent  my- 
self altogether  was  impossible.  Never  was  I  in  such  a 
dilemma.  All  my  endeavours  to  rescue  myself  were  fruit- 
less ;  and  at  last,  worn  out  with  the  conflict  of  my  doubts 
and  fears,  I  stepped  into  the  fiacre  and  set  out  for  the 
Palace. 


226  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS.' 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE    "PA  VILLON    DE    FLORB." 

As  my  humble  carriage  slackeiif  d  its  pace  to  a  walk  OH 
approaching  the  Place  Carousel,  I  for  the  first  time  per- 
ceived that  the  open  space  around  was  thronged  with 
equipages,  moving  slowly  along  in  line  towards  the  gate  of 
the  Palace.  A  picket  of  dragoons  was  drawn  up  at  the 
great  archway,  and  mounted  ye.ndarme*  rode  up  and  down 
to  preserve  order  in  the  crowd.  Before  me  stretched  the 
long  facade  of  the  Tuileries,  now  lighted  up  in  its  entire 
extent.  The  rich  hangings  and  costly  furniture  could  be 
seen  even  where  I  was. 

What  a  sinking  sense  of  shame  overwhelmed  me  as  I 
thought  of  my  humble  position  amid  that  mighty  concourse 
of  all  that  was  great  and  illustrious  in  France ;  and  how  I 
shrunk  within  myself  as  I  thought  of  the  poor  scholar  of 
the  Polytechnique — for  such  my  dress  proclaimed  me — 
mixing  with  the  most  distinguished  diplomatists  and 
generals  of  Europe !  The  rebuke  I  had  met  with  from  my 
colonel  in  the  morning  was  still  fresh  in  my  recollection, 
and  I  dreaded  something  like  a  repetition  of  it. 

"  Oh !  why  had  I  not  known  that  this  was  a  grand  re- 
ception  H  "  was  the  ever-rising  thought  of  my  mind.  My 
card  of  invitation  said  a  soiree  :  even  that  I  might  have 
dared — but  here  was  a  regular  levee  !  Already  I  was  near 
enough  to  hear  the  names  announced  at  the  foot  of  the 
grand  staircase,  whore  ambassadors,  senators,  ministers  of 
state,  and  officers  of  the  highest  rank  succeeded  each 
other  in  quick  succession.  My  carriage  stood  now  next 
but  two.  I  was  near  enough  to  see  the  last  arrival  hand 
his  card  to  the  huissier  in  waiting,  and  hear  his  title  called 
out,  "  Le  Ministre  de  la  Guerre,"  when  the  person  in  the 
carriage  before  me  cried  to  his  coachman,  "  To  the  left  — 
the  Pavilion  de  Plore  ;"  and  at  the  same  moment  the  car- 


THE    "  PAVILLOX    DK    FLOKE."  227 

riage  turned  from  the  line,  and  drove  rapidly  towards  » 
distant  wing  of  the  Palace. 

"  Move  up  !  move  up  !  "  shouted  a  dragoon  ;  "  or  ait 
you  for  the  soiree  de  Madame  f  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  "  said  I,  hastily,  as  I  heard  his  question. 

"  Follow  that  carriage,  then,"  said  he,  pointing  with 
his  sabre  ;  and  in  a  moment  we  left  the  dense  file,  and 
followed  the  sounds  of  the  retiring  wheels  towards  a  dark 
corner  of  the  Palace,  where  a  single  lamp  over  a  gate  was 
the  only  light  to  guide  us.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  sense 
of  relief  I  felt  as  I  lay  back  in  the  carriage,  and  listened 
to  the  hum  and  din  of  the  vast  crowd  growing  each  moment 
fainter.  "  Thank  Heaven,"  said  I,  "  it's  no  levee."  Scarce 
half  a  dozen  equipages  stood  around  the  door  as  we  drove 
up,  and  a  single  dragoon  was  the  guard  of  honour. 

"  Whom  shall  I  announce,  sir  ?  "  said  a  huissier  in  black, 
whose  manner  was  as  deferential  as  though  my  appearance 
bespoke  an  ambassador.  I  gave  my  name  and  followed 
him  up  a  wide  stair,  where  the  deep  velvet  carpet  left  no 
footfall  audible.  A  large  bronze  candelabra,  supporting  a 
blaze  of  wax-lights,  diffused  a  light  like  day  on  every  side. 
The  doors  opened  before  us  as  if  by  magic,  and  I  found 
myself  in  an  antechamber,  where  the  huissier,  repeating 
my  name  to  another  in  waiting,  retired.  Passing  through 
this,  we  entered  a  small  drawing-room,  in  which  sat  two 
persons  engaged  at  a  chess-table,  but  who  never  looked  up, 
or  noticed  us,  as  we  proceeded.  At  last  the  two  wings  of  a 
wide  folding-door  were  thrown  open,  and  my  name  was 
announced  in  a  low  but  audible  voice. 

The  salon  into  which  I  now  entered  was  a  large  and 
splendidly-furnished  apartment,  whose  light,  tempered  by  a 
species  of  abat-jour,  gave  a  kind  of  soft  mysterious  effect 
to  everything  about,  and  made  even  the  figures,  as  they 
sat  in  little  groups,  appear  something  almost  dramatic  in 
their  character.  The  conversation,  too,  was  maintained  in 
a  half-subdued  tone — a  gentle  murmur  of  voices,  that, 
mingling  with  the  swell  of  music  in  another  and  distant 
apartment,  and  the  plash  of  a  small  fountain  in  a  vase  of 
gold-fish  in  the  room  itself,  made  a  strange  but  most  pleas- 
ing assemblage  of  sounds.  Even  in  the  momentary  glance 
which,  on  entering,  I  threw  around  me,  I  perceived  that 
no  studied  etiquette  or  courtly  stateliuoss  prevailed.  The 


228  TOM   BURKE   OF    "  OURS." 

guests  were  disposed  in  every  attitude  of  lounging  er.se  and 
careless  abandon  ;  and  it  was  plain  to  see  that  all,  or  nearly 
all,  about  were  intimates  of  the  place. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  me,  I  stood  half  uncertain 
how  to  proceed.  Unhappily,  I  knew  little  of  the  habitudes 
of  the  great  world ;  and  every  step  I  took  was  a  matter  of 
difficulty. 

"  I  think  you  will  find  Madame  Bonaparte  in  that  room," 
said  a  middle-aged  and  handsome  man,  whose  mild  voice 
and  gentle  smile  did  much  to  set  me  at  my  ease ;  "  but 
perhaps  you  don't  know  her." 

I  muttered  something  I  meant  to  be  a  negative,  to  which 
he  immediately  replied, — 

"  Then  let  me  present  you.  There  is  no  ceremony  here, 
and  I  shall  be  your  groom  of  the  chambers — but  here  she 
is.  Madame  la  Consulesse,  this  young  gentleman  desires  to 
make  his  respects." 

"  Ha !  our  friend  of  the  Polytechnique — Monsieur 
Burke,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Madame,"  said  I,  bowing  low,  and  blushing 
deeply  as  I  recognized,  in  the  splendidly-attired  and 
beautiful  person  before  me,  the  lady  who  so  kindly  held 
the  water  to  my  lips  the  day  of  my  accident  at  the  school. 

'*  Why,  they  told  me  you  were  promoted — a  hussar,  I 
think." 

"  Yes,  Madame — but — out " 

"  You  are  too  fond  of  old  associations  to  part  from  them 
easily,"  said  she,  laughing.  "  Come  here,  Stephanie,  and 
see  a  miracle  of  manhood,  that  could  resist  all  theflin- 
qunnt  of  a  hussar  for  the  simple  costume  of  the  Ecole 
Militaire.  Monsieur  de  Custine,  this  is  my  young  friend 
of  whom  I  told  you  the  other  day." 

The  gentleman,  the  same  who  had  so  kindly  noticed  me, 
bowed  politely. 

"  And  now  I  must  leave  yoa  together,  for  I  see  they 
are  teasing  poor  Madame  Lefebvre."  And  with  a  smile 
she  passed  on  into  a  small  boudoir  from  which  the  sounds 
of  merry  laughter  were  proceeding. 

"  You  don't  know  any  one  here  ?  "  said  Monsieur  de 
Custine,  as  he  motioned  me  to  a  place  beside  him  on  a 
sofa  ;  "  nor  is  there  any  very  remarkable  person  here  to 
point  out  to  you  this  evening  The  First  Consul's 


THE    "PAVILLON    DE    FLOKE."  229 

leve*e  absorbs  all  the  celebrities — but  by-and-by  they 
will  drop  in  to  pay  theif  respects,  and  you'll  see  them  all. 
The  handsome  woman  yonder  with  her  fan  before  her  is 
Madame  Beauharnais  Lavalette,  and  the  good-looking 
young  fellow  in  the  staff  uniform  is  Monsieur  de  Melcy,  a 
stepson  of  General  Rapp." 

"  And  the  large  handsome  man  with  the  embroidered 
coat  who  passed  through  so  hurriedly  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  is  somebody — that's  Decres,  the  Ministre  de  la 
Marine — he  is  gone  to  the  levee  ;  and  there,  next  the  door, 
with  his  eyes  cast  down,  and  his  hands  folded,  that  is  the 
Abbe  Maynal,  one  of  the  most '  spirituel '  men  of  the  day  ; 
but  I  suppose  you'd  much  rather  look  at  the  beauties  of 
the  Court  than  hear  long  stories  about  literature  and 
politics ;'  and  there  is  the  gem  of  loveliness  among 
them." 

I  turned  my  eyes  as  he  spoke,  and  close  beside  me, 
engaged  in  an  eager  conversation  with  an  old  lady,  stood 
a  young  and  most  beautiful  girl.  Her  long  hair,  through 
which,  in  the  then  mode,  violets  were  wreathed  and  inter- 
woven, descended  in  rich  masses  of  curl  over  a  neck  white 
as  marble.  The  corsage  of  her  dress,  which,  in  imitation 
of  Greek  costume,  was  made  low,  displayed  her  well- 
rounded  shoulders  to  the  greatest  advantage ;  and  though 
rather  below  than  above  the  middle  size,  there  was  a 
dignity  and  grace  in  the  air  of  her  figure,  and  a  certain 
elegance  about  her  slightest  movements,  that  was  most 
fascinating. 

"  And  the  '  Rose  de  Provence ' — how  is  she  this 
evening  ?  "  said  my  companion,  rising  suddenly,  and  pre- 
senting himself  with  a  smile  before  her. 

"  Ah  !  you  here,  Monsieur  de  Custine  ?  we  thought  you 
had  been  at  Nancy." 

The  accent,  the  tone  of  voice  in  which  she  said  these 
few  words,  sent  a  thrill  through  me,  and  as  I  looked  again, 
I  recognized  the  young  lady  who  stood  at  Madame 
Bonaparte's  side  on  the  memorable  day  of  my  fall.  Per- 
haps my  astonishment  made  me  start;  for  she  turned 
round  towards  me,  and  with  a  soft  and  most  charming 
smile  saluted  me. 

"  How  they  are  laughing  in  that  room !  "  said  she, 
turning  towards  her  other  companions.  "Monsieur  de 


230  TOM    BURKE    OP    "  OUKS." 

Custine  has  deserted  his  dear  friend  this  evening,  and 
left  her  Lo  her  unassisted  defence." 

"  Ma  foi"  replied  he,  "  I  got  ill  rewarded  for  my 
advocacy,  ft  was  only  last  week,  when  I  helped  her  out 
through  one  of  her  blunders  in  grammar,  she  called  me  a 
'ganache'  for  my  pains." 

"  How  very  ungrateful !  You  that  have  been  inter- 
preter to  her — her  tutor  for  the  entire  winter — without 
whom  she  could  neither  have  obtained  an  ice  nor  a  glass 
of  water." 

"  So  is  it ;  but  you  are  all  ungrateful.  But  I  think  I 
had  better  go  and  pay  my  respects  to  her  ;  pray  come  along 
with  me." 

I  followed  the  party  into  a  small  room  fitted  up  like  a  tent, 
where,  amid  some  half-dozen  persons  assembled  around 
like  an  audience,  sat  a  large,  florid,  and  good-looking 
person,  her  costume  of  scarlet  velvet,  turban,  and  robe 
adding  to  the  flushed  and  high-coloured  expression  of  her 
features.  She  was  talking  in  a  loud  voice,  and  with  an 
accent  of  such  patois  as  I  should  much  more  naturally 
have  expected  in  a  remote  faubourg  than  in  the  gilded 
salons  of  the  Tuileries.  She  had  been  relating  some 
anecdotes  of  military  life,  which  came  within  her  own 
experience ;  and  evidently  amused  her  auditory  as  much 
by  her  manner  as  the  matter  of  her  narrative. 

"  Oui,  parbleu,"  said  she,  drawing  a  long  breath,  "I  was 
only  the  wife  of  a  sergeant  in  the  '  Gardes  Frai^aises ' 
in  those  days  ;  but  they  were  pleasant  times,  and  the  men 
one  used  to  see  were  men  indeed.  They  were  not  as  much 
laced  in  gold,  nor  had  not  so  much  finery  on  their  jackets  ; 
but  they  were  bold,  bronzed,  manly  fellows.  You'd  not 
see  such  a  poor,  miserable  little  fellow  as  De  Custine  there, 
in  a  whole  demi-brigade."  When  the  laugh  this  speech 
caused,  and  in  which  her  own  merry  voice  joined,  sub- 
sided, she  continued :  "  Where  will  you  find,  now,  any- 
thing like  the  Twenty-second  of  the  line  ?  Pioche  was  in 
that — poor  Pioche ! — I  tied  up  his  jaw  in  Egypt  when  it 
was  smashed  by  a  bullet.  I  remember,  too,  when  the 
regiment  came  back  ;  your  husband,  the  General,  reviewed 
them  in  the  court  below,  and  poor  Pioche  was  quite 
offended  at  not  being  noticed.  '  We  were  good  friends,' 
quoth  he,  '  at  Mount  Tabor,  but  he  forgets  all  that  now ; 


THE    "  PA  VILLON    DE    FLOEE.*'  231 

that's  what  comes  of  a  rise  in  the  world.  "Le  Petit 
Caporal  "  was  humble  enough  once,  I  warrant  him  ;  but 
now  he  can't  remember  me.'  Well,  they  were  ordered  to 
march  past  in  line,  and  there  was  Pioche,  with  his  great 
dark  eyes  fixed  on  the  General,  and  his  big  black  beard 
flowing  down  to  his  waist ;  but  no,  he  never  noticed  him 
no  more  than  the  tambour  that  beat  the  rappel.  He 
could  bear  it  no  longer.  His  head  was  twisting  with  im- 
patience and  chagrin  ;  and  he  sprang  out  of  the  lines,  and 
seizing  a  brass  gun — a  piece  de  quatre — he  mounted  it  lik( 
a  fusee  to  his  shoulder,  and  marched  past,  calling  out, 
'  Tu  ' — he  always  tu-toied  him — '  tu  te  rappelles  maintenant, 
n'est-ce  pas,  petit  ?  ' ' 

No  one  enjoyed  this  little  story  more  than  Madame 
Bonaparte  herself,  who  laughed  for  several  minutes  after 
it  was  over.  Story  after  story  did  she  pour  forth  in  this 
way ;  most  of  them,  however,  had  their  merit  in  some 
personality  or  other,  which,  while  recognized  by  the  rest, 
had  no  attraction  for  me.  There  was  in  all  she  said  the 
easy  self-complacency  of  a  kind-hearted  but  vulgar  woman, 
vain  of  her  husband,  proad  of  his  services,  and  perfectly 
indifferent  to  the  habits  and  usages  of  a  society  whose 
manners  she  gave  herself  no  trouble  to  imitate,  nor  of 
whose  ridicule  was  she  in  the  least  afraid. 

I  sauntered  from  the  room  alone,  to  wander  through  the 
other  apartments,  where  objects  of  art  and  curiosities  of 
every  kind  were  profusely  scattered.  The  marbles  of 
Greece  and  Rome,  the  strange  carvings  of  Egypt,  the  rich 
vases  of  Sevres  were  there,  amid  cabinet  pictures  of  the 
rarest  and  most  costly  kind.  Those  delicious  landscapes 
of  the  time  of  Louis  XV.,  where  every  charm  of  nature 
and  art  was  conveyed  upon  the  canvas  ;  the  cool  arbours 
of  Versailles,  with  their  terraced  promenades  and  hissing 
fountains — the  subjects  which  Vanloo  loved  to  paint,  and 
which  that  voluptuous  Court  loved  to  contemplate;  the 
long  alleys  of  shady  green,  where  gay  groups  were 
strolling  in  the  mellow  softness  of  an  autumn  sunset; 
those  proud  dames  whose  sweeping  garments  brushed  the 
velvet  turf,  and  at  whose  sides,  uncovered,  walked  the 
chivalry  of  France,  how  did  they  live  again  in  the  bright 
pencil  of  Moucheron,  and  how  did  they  carry  one  in  fancy 
to  the  great  days  of  the  Monarchy.  Strange  place  for 


282  TOM  BURKE   OF    "  OURS." 

them,  too,  the  boudoir  of  her  whose  husband  had  uprooted 
the  ancient  dynasty  they  commemorated — had  erased  from 
the  list  of  kings  that  proudest  of  all  the  royal  stocks  in 
Europe.  Was  it  the  narrow-minded  glory  of  the  usurper 
that  loved  to  look  upon  the  greatness  he  had  humbled, 
that  brought  them  there  ?  or  was  it  rather  the  well-spring 
of  that  proud  hope  just  rising  in  his  heart  that  he  was  to 
be  successor  of  those  great  kings,  whose  history  formed 
the  annals  of  Europe  itself?  As  I  wandered  on,  captivated 
in  every  sense  by  the  charm  of  what  to  me  was  a  scene  in 
fairyland,  I  came  suddenly  before  a  picture  of  Josephine, 
surrounded  by  the  ladies  of  her  Court.  It  was  by  Isabey, 
and  had  all  the  delicate  beauty  and  transparent  finish  oi 
that  delightful  painter.  Beside  it  was  another  portrait  by 
the  same  artist,  and  I  started  back  in  amazement  at  the 
resemblance.  Never  had  colour  better  caught  the  rich 
tint  of  a  southern  complexion  ;  the  liquid  softness  of  eye, 
the  full  and  sparkling  intelligence  of  ready  wit  and  bright 
fancy,  all  beamed  in  that  lovely  face.  It  needed  not  the 
golden  letters  in  the  frame  which  called  it  "  La  Rose  de 
Provence."  I  sat  down  before  it  unconsciously,  delighted 
that  I  might  gaze  on  such  beauty  unconstrained.  The 
white  hand  leaned  on  a  balustrade,  and  seemed  almost  as 
if  stretching  from  the  very  canvas.  I  could  have  knelt 
and  kissed  it.  That  was  the  very  look  she  wore  the  hour 
I  saw  her  first — it  had  never  left  my  thoughts  day  or 
night :  the  half-rising  blush,  the  slightly-averted  head,  the 
mingled  look  of  impatience  and  kindness — all  were  there ; 
and  so  entranced  had  I  become,  that  I  feared  each  instant 
lest  the  vision  would  depart,  and  leave  me  dark  and  deso- 
late. The  silence  of  the  room  was  almost  unbroken — a 
distant  murmur  of  voices,  the  tones  of  a  harp,  were  all  I 
heard,  and  I  sat,  I  know  not  how  long,  thus  wrapped  in 
ecstasy. 

A  tall  screen  of  Chinese  fabric  separated  the  part  of  the 
room  I  occupied  from  the  rest,  and  left  me  free  to  contem- 
plate alone  those  charms  which  each  moment  grew  stronger 
upon  me.  An  hour  might  perhaps  have  thus  elapsed,  when 
suddenly  I  heard  the  sound  of  voices  approaching,  but  in 
a  different  direction  from  that  of  the  salons.  They  were 
raised  above  the  ordinary  tone  of  speaking,  and  one  in 
particular  sounded  in  a  strange  accent  of  mingled  passion 


THE    "PA VILLON   DE   FLOKE."  233 

and  sarcasm,  which  I  shall  never  forget.  The  door  of  the 
room  was  flung  open  before  I  could  rise  from  my  chair, 
and  two  persons  entered,  neither  of  whom  could  I  see  from 
my  position  behind  the  screen. 

"  I  ask  you,  again  and  again,  is  the  treaty  of  Amiens  a 
treaty,  or  is  it  not  ?  "  said  a  harsh,  imperious  tone  I  at 
once  recognized  as  that  of  the  First  Consul,  while  his 
voice  actually  trembled  with  anger. 

"My  Lord  Whitworth  observed,  if  I  mistake  not," 
replied  a  measured  and  soft  accent,  where  a  certain 
courtier-like  unction  prevailed,  "  that  the  withdrawal  of 
the  British  troops  from  Malta  would  follow,  on  our  making 
a  similar  step  as  regards  our  forces  in  Switzerland  and 
Piedmont." 

"  What  right  have  they  to  make  such  a  condition  ? 
They  never  complained  of  the  occupation  of  Switzerland 
at  the  time  of  the  treaty.  I  will  not  hear  of  such  a  stipu- 
lation. I  tell  you,  Monsieur  de  Talleyrand,  I'd  rather  see 
the  English  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine  than  in  the 
Island  of  Malta.  Why  should  we  treat  with  England  as 
a  continental  power?  Of  India,  if  she  will — and  as  to 
Egypt,  I  told  my  Lord  that  sooner  or  later  it  must  belong 
to  France." 

"  A  frankness  he  has  reason  to  be  thankful  for,"  observed 
M.  de  Talleyrand,  in  a  voice  of  sarcastic  slyness. 

"  Que  voulez-vous?  "  replied  Bonaparte,  in  a  raised  tone; 
"  they  want  a  war,  and  they  shall  h  .ve  it :  what  matter 
the  cause — such  treaties  of  peace  as  these  had  better  be 
covered  with  black  crape."  Then  dropping  his  voice  to  a 
half-whisper,  he  added  :  "  You  must  see  him  to-rnorrow, 
explain  how  the  attacks  of  the  English  press  have  irri- 
tated me — how  deeply  wounded  I  must  feel  at  such  a 
license  permitted  under  the  very  eyes  of  a  friendly  govern- 
ment— plots  against  my  life  encouraged — assassination 
countenanced.  Eepeat  that  Sebastiani's  mission  to  Egypt 
is  merely  commercial.  That  although  prepared  for  war, 
our  wish,  the  wish  of  France,  is  peace.  That  the  arma- 
ments in  Holland  are  destined  for  the  colonies.  Show 
yourself  disposed  to  treat,  but  not  to  make  advances. 
Reject  the  word  ultimatum,  if  he  employ  it.  The  phrase 
implies  a  parley  between  a  superior  and  an  inferior.  This 
is  no  longer  the  France  that  remembers  an  English  com- 


234  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

missary  at  Dunkirk.  If  he  do  not  use  the  word,  then 
remark  on  its  absence — say,  these  are  not  times  for  longer 
anxiety — that  we  must  know,  at  last,  to  what  we  are  to 
look.  Tell  him  the  Bourbons  are  not  still  on  the  throne 
here.  Let  him  feel  with  whom  he  has  to  deal." 

"  And  if  he  demand  his  passport,"  gravely  observed 
Talleyrand,  "  you  can  be  in  the  country  for  a  day — at 
Plombieres— at  St.  Cloud." 

A  low,  subdued  laugh  followed  these  words,  and  they 
walked  forward  towards  the  salons,  still  conversing,  but 
in  a  whispered  tone. 

A  cold  perspiration  broke  over  my  face  and  forehead, 
the  drops  fell  heavily  down  my  cheek,  as  I  sat  an  un- 
willing listener  of  this  eventful  dialogue.  That  the  fate 
of  Europe  was  in  the  balance  I  knew  full  well — and, 
ardently  as  I  longed  for  war,  the  dreadful  picture  that 
rose  before  me  damped  much  of  my  ardour — while  a 
sense  of  my  personal  danger,  if  discovered  where  I  was, 
made  me  tremble  from  head  to  foot.  It  was,  then,  with  a 
sinking  spirit,  that  I  retraced  my  steps  towards  the  salons, 
not  knowing  if  my  absence  had  not  been  remarked  and 
commented  on.  How  little  was  I  versed  in  such  society, 
where  each  came  and  went  as  it  pleased  him ;  where 
the  most  brilliant  beauty,  the  most  spiritual  conversa- 
tionalist, left  no  gap  by  absence,  and  where  such  as  I 
were  no  more  noticed  than  the  statues  that  held  the  wax- 
lights. 

The  salons  were  now  crowded — ministers  of  state, 
ambassadors,  general  officers  in  their  splendid  uniforms, 
filled  the  apartments,  in  which  the  din  of  conversation 
and  the  sounds  of  laughter  mingled.  Yet,  through  the 
air  of  gaiety  which  reigned  throughout — the  tone  of  light 
and  flippant  smartness  which  prevailed — I  thought  I 
could  mark  here  and  there,  among  some  of  the  ministers, 
an  appearance  of  excitement,  and  a  look  of  preoccupa- 
tion, little  in  unison  with  the  easy  intimacy  which  a'l 
seemed  to  possess.  I  looked  on  every  side  for  the  First 
Consul  himself,  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Mon- 
sieur Talleyrand,  however,  remained — I  recognized  him 
by  his  soft  and  measured  accent,  as  he  sat  beside  Madame 
Bonaparte,  and  was  relating  some  story  in  a  low  voice,  at 
which  she  seemed  greatly  amused.  I  could  not  help 


THE    "PA VILLON   DE    FLORE."  235 

wondering  at  the  lively  and  animated  character  of  features, 
beneath  which  were  concealed  the  dark  secrets  of  state 
affairs,  the  tangled  mysteries  of  political  intrigue.  To 
look  on  him,  you  would  have  said,  "  There  sits  one  whose 
easy  life  flows  on,  unruffled  by  this  world's  chances."  Not 
so  the  tall  and  swarthy  man,  whose  dark  moustache  hangs 
far  below  his  chin,  and  who  leans  on  the  chimney-piece 
yonder — the  large  veins  of  his  forehead  are  swollen  and 
knitted,  and  his  deep  voice  seems  to  tremble  with  strong 
emotion  as  he  speaks. 

"  Pray,  monsieur,  who  is  that  officer  yonder?  "  said  I, 
to  a  gentleman  beside  me,  and  whose  shoulder  was  half 
turned  away. 

"That,"  said  he,  raising  his  glass,— "that  is  Savary, 
the  Minister  of  Police.  And,  pardon,  you  are  Mr.  Burke 
— is't  not  so  ?  " 

I  started  as  he  pronounced  my  name,  and  looking 
fixedly  at  him,  recognized  the  antagonist  with  whom  I  w?is 
to  measure  swords  the  next  morning  in  the  Bois  de 
Boulogne ;  I  coloured  at  the  awkwardness  of  my  situa- 
tion, but  he,  with  more  ease  and  self-possession,  re- 
sumed,— 

"  Monsieur,  this  is,  to  me  at  least,  a  very  fortunate 
meeting.  I  have  called  twice,  in  the  hope  of  seeing  you 
this  evening,  and  am  overjoyed  now  to  find  you  here.  1 
behaved  very  ill  to  you  this  moraing — I  feel  it  now — I 
almost  felt  it  at  the  time.  If  you  will  accept  my  apology 
for  what  has  occurred,  I  make  it  most  freely.  My 
character  is  in  no  need  of  an  affair  to  make  me  known 
as  a  man  of  courage — yours,  there  can  be  no  doubt  of. 
May  I  hope  you  agree  with  me  ?  1  see  you  hesitate — 
perhaps  I  anticipate  the  reason — you  do  not  know  how 
far  you  can,  or  ought  to  receive  such  an  amende  ?  "  I 
nodded,  and  he  continued :  "  Well,  I  am  rather  a  practised 
person  in  these  matters,  and  I  can  safely  say  you.  may." 

"  Be  it  so,  then,"  said  I,  taking  the  hand  he  proffered, 
and  shaking  it  warmly ;  *'  I  am  too  young  in  the  world  to 
be  my  own  guide,  and  I  feel  you  would  not  deceive  me." 

A  gratified  look,  and  a  renewed  pressure  of  the  hand, 
replied  to  my  speech. 

"  One  favour  more — you  mustn't  refuse  me.  Let  us 
sup  together— my  caleche  is  below — people  are  already 


236  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

taking  their  leave  here— and,  if  you  have  no  particular 
reason  for  remaining " 

"  None — 1  know  no  one." 

"  Allans,  then,"  said  he,  gaily  taking  my  arm ;  and  I 
soon  found  myself  descending  the  marble  stairs,  beside 
the  man  I  had  expected  to  stand  opposed  to  in  deadly 
conflict  a  few  hours  later. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THK   SUPPER  AT   "  BEAUVILLIERS'S." 

"  WHERE  to  ?  "  asked  the  coachman,  as  we  entered  the 
caleche. 

"  Beauvilliers,"  said  the  Marquis,  throwing  himself  back 
in  his  seat,  and  remaining  for  some  minutes  silent.  At 
last,  as  if  suddenly  recollecting  that  we  were  strangers  to 
each  other,  he  said,  "You  know  Beauvilliers,  of  course?" 

"  No,"  replied  I,  with  hesitation ;  "  I  really  have  not 
any  acquaintance." 

"  Parbleu!"  said  he,  laughing,  "you  ought  at  least  to 
have  his  friendship.  He  is  the  most  celebrated  restaura- 
teur of  this  or  any  other  age  ;  no  one  has  carried  the  great 
art  of  the  cuisine  to  a  higher  perfection,  and  his  cellars  are 
unequalled  in  Paris — but  you  shall  pronounce  for  yourself." 

"  Unhappily  my  judgment  is  of  little  value.  Do  you 
forget  that  the  diet-roll  of  the  Poly  technique  is  a  bad 
school  for  gastronomy  ?  " 

"  But  a  glorious  preparation  for  it,"  interrupted  he. 
"  How  delightful  must  be  the  enjoyment  to  the  unsophis- 
ticated palate  of  those  first  impressions  which  a  carpe  a  la 
Ohambord,  a  pheasant  truffk,  a  dish  of  ortolans  a  la  Pro- 
venfale  inspire !  But  here  we  are.  Onr  party  is  a  small 
one — an  old  prefet  of  the  south,  an  abbe,  a  secretary  of  the 


THE    SUPPER   AT    "  BEAUVILLIERS's."  237 

Russian  embassy,  and  ourselves."  This  information  he 
gave  me  as  we  mounted  a  narrow  and  winding  stair, 
dimly  lighted  by  a  single  lamp.  On  reaching  the  landing, 
however,  a  waiter  stood  in  readiness  to  usher  us  into  a 
small  apartment  decorated  with  all  the  luxury  of  gold  and 
plate  glass,  so  profusely  employed  in  the  interior  of  all 
cafes.  The  guests  already  mentioned  were  there,  and  evi- 
dently awaiting  our  arrival  with  no  small  impatience. 

"  As  usual,  Henri,"  said  the  old  man,  whom  I  guessed 
to  be  the  prefet — "  as  usual — an  hour  behind  your  appoint- 
ment." 

"  Forgive  him,  monsieur,"  said  the  abbe,  with  a  simper. 
"  The  fascinations  of  a  Court " 

The  grimace  the  old  man  made  at  this  last  word  threw 
the  whole  party  into  a  roar  of  laughter,  which  only  ceased 
by  the  Marquis  presenting  me  in  all  form  to  each  of  his 
friends. 

"  A  table,  a  table,  for  Heaven's  sake  !  "  cried  the  prefet, 
ringing  the  bell,  and  bustling  about  the  room  with  a 
fidgety  impatience. 

This  was,  however,  un needed  ;  for  in  less  than  five 
minutes  the  supper  made  its  appearance,  and  we  took  our 
places  at  the  board. 

The  encomiums  pronounced  as  each  dish  came  and  went 
satisfied  me  that  the  feast  was  unexceptionable.  As  for 
myself,  I  ate  away,  only  conscious  that  I  had  never  been  so 
regaled  before,  and  wondering  within  me  how  far  ingen- 
uity had  been  exercised  to  produce  the  endless  variety 
that  appeared  at  table.  The  wine,  too,  circulated  freely  ; 
and  Champagne,  Bordeaux,  and  Chambertin  followed  each 
other  in  succession,  as  the  different  meats  indicated  the 
peculiar  vintage.  In  the  conversation  I  could  take  no 
part ;  it  was  entirely  gastronomic ;  and  no  man  ever 
existed  more  ignorant  of  the  seasons  that  promised  well 
for  truffles,  or  the  state  of  the  atmosphere  that  threatened 
acidity  to  the  vines. 

"  Well,  Henri,"  said  the  prefet,  when  the  dessert  made 
its  appearance,  and  the  time  for  concluding  the  gourmand 
dissertation  seemed  arrived — "  well,  and  what  news  from 
the  Tuileries  ?  " 

"  Nothing — absolutely  nothing,"  said  he,  carelessly. 
"  The  same  people ;  the  same  topics ;  the  eternal  game  of 


238  TOM    BUBKE    OF    "  OURS." 

tric-trac  with  old  Madame  d'Angerton ;  Denon  torment- 
ing some  new  victim  with  a  mummy  or  a  map  of  Egypt ; 
Madame  Lefebvre  relating  camp  anecdotes " 

u.Ah,  she  is  delightful ! "  interrupted  the  prefet. 

"So  thinks  your  chief,  at  least,  Askoff,"  said  De 
Beauvais,  turning  to  the  Russian.  "  He  sat  on  the  sofa 
beside  her  for  a  good  hour  and  a  half." 

"  Who  sat  near  him  on  the  other  side  ?  "  slyly  asked  the 
other. 

"  On  the  other  side  ?  I  forget — no,  I  remember  it  was 
Monsieur  de  Talleyrand  and  Madame  Bonaparte  ;  and, 
now  I  think  of  it,  he  must  have  overheard  what  they 
said." 

"  Is  it  true,  then,  that  Bonaparte  insulted  the  English 
ambassador  at  the  reception  ?  Askoff  heard  it  as  he  left 
the  Rue  St.  Honore." 

"  Perfectly  true.  The  scene  was  a  most  outrageous 
one ;  and  Lord  Whitworth  retired,  declaring  to  Talley- 
rand— at  least,  so  they  say — that  without  an  apology  being 
made,  he  would  abstain  from  any  future  visits  at  the 
Tuileries." 

"  But  what  is  to  come  of  it  ? — tell  me  that.  What  is  to 
be  the  result?  " 

"  Pardieu!  I  know  not.  A  reconciliation  to-morrow; 
an  article  in  the  Moniteur ;  a  dinner  at  the  Court ;  and 
then  another  rupture,  and  another  article." 

"  Or  a  war,"  said  the  Russian,  looking  cautiously  about, 
to  see  if  his  opinion  met  any  advocacy. 

"  What  say  you  to  that,  mon  ami !  "  said  De  Beauvais, 
turning  to  me.  "  Glad  enough,  I  suppose,  you'll  be  to 
win  your  epaulettes  as  colonel." 

"That,  too,  is  on  the  cards,"  said  the  abbe,  sipping  his 
glass  quietly.  "  One  can  credit  anything  these  times." 

"  Even  the  Catholic  religion,  abbe,"  said  De  Beauvais, 
laughing. 

"  Or  the  Restoration,"  replied  the  abbe,  with  a  half- 
malicious  look  at  the  prefet,  which  seemed  greatly  to 
amuse  the  Russian. 

'*  Or  the  Restoration ! "  repeated  the  prefet,  solemnly, 
after  him — "or  the  Restoration!"  And  then  filling  his 
ss  to  the  brim,  he  drained  it  to  the  bottom. 

M  It  is  a  hussar  corps  you  are  appointed  to  ?  "  said  De 


THE    SUPPER   AT    "  BEAUVILLIEKS'S."  239 

Beauvais,  hastily  turning  towards  me,  as  if  anxious  to 
engage  my  attention. 

"  Yes ;  the  huitieme,"  said  I :  "do  you  know  them  ?  " 

"No  ;  I  have  few  acquaintances  in  the  army." 

"  His  father,  sir,"  said  the  prefet,  with  a  voice  of  con- 
siderable emphasis,  "  was  an  old  garde  du  corps  in  those 
times  when  the  sword  was  only  worn  by  gentlemen." 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  the  army,"  whispered  the  abbe 
in  an  undertone,  that  was  sufficiently  audible  to  the  rest 
to  cause  an  outbreak  of  laughter. 

"  And  when,"  continued  the  pr6fet,  undisturbed  by  the 
interruption,  "  birth  had  its  privileges." 

"Among  the  rest,  that  of  being  the  first  beheaded," 
murmured  the  inexorable  abbe. 

"  Were  truffles  dear  before  the  Revolution,  prefet  ?  " 
said  De  Beauvais,  with  a  half-impertinent  air  of  simplicity. 

"  No,  sir ;  nothing  was  dear  save  the  king's  favour." 

"Which  could  also  be  had  for  paying  for,"  quoth  the 
abbe. 

"  The  Moniteiw  of  this  evening,  gentlemen,"  said  the 
waiter,  entering  with  the  paper,  whose  publication  had 
been  delayed  some  two  hours  beyond  the  usual  period. 

"  Ah,  let  us  see  what  we  have  here,"  said  De  Beauvais, 
opening  the  journal  and  reading  aloud  : 

" '  General  Espinasse  is  appointed  to  the  command  of 
the  fourth  corps,  stationed  at  Lille,  and  Major- General 

Lannes  to  the  fortress  of  Montreil,  vacant  by '  No 

matter — here  it  is.  '  Does  the  English  Government  sup- 
pose that  France  is  one  of  her  Indian  possessions,  without 
the  means  to  declare  her  wrongs,  or  the  power  to  avenge 
them  ?  Can  they  believe  that  rights  are  not  reciprocal, 
and  that  the  observance  of  one  contracting  party  involves 
nothing  on  the  part  of  the  other?'  ' 

"  There,  there,  De  Beauvais ;  don't  worry  us  with  that 
tiresome  nonsense." 

"  '  Or,'  continued  the  marquis,  still  reading  aloud,  '  do 
they  presume  to  say  that  we  shall  issue  no  commercial 
instructions  to  our  agents  abroad  lest  English  susceptibility 
should  be  wounded  by  any  prospect  of  increased  advantages 
to  our  trade  ? ' ' 

"  Our  trade  !  "  echoed  the  prefet,  with  a  most  contemp- 
tuous intonation  on  the  word. 


240  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

"  Ah !  for  those  good  old  times,  when  there  was  none !  * 
said  the  abbe,  with  such  a  semblance  of  honest  sincerity 
as  drew  an  approving  smile  from  the  old  man. 

"  Hear  this,  prefet,"  said  De  Beauvais  :  "  '  From  the 
times  of  Colbert  to  the  present ' — what  think  you  ?  the 
allusion,  right  royal,  is  it  not? — *  From  the  times  of 
Colbert  our  negotiations  have  been  always  conducted  in 
this  manner.' " 

"  Sir,  I  beseech  you  read  no  more  of  that  intolerable 
nonsense." 

"  And  here,  continued  the  Marquis,  "  follows  a  special 
invocation  of  the  benediction  of  Heaven  on  the  just  efforts 
which  France  is  called  on  to  make,  to  repress  the  insolent 
aggression  of  England — abbe,  this  concerns  yon." 

•'  Of  course,"  said  he,  meekly.  "  I  am  quite  prepared  to 
pray  for  the  party  in  power  :  if  Heaven  but  leaves  them 
there,  I  must  conclude  they  deserve  it." 

A  doubtful  look,  as  if  he  but  half  understood  him,  was 
the  only  reply  the  old  prefet  made  to  this  speech  ;  at  which 
the  laughter  of  the  others  could  no  longer  be  repressed, 
and  burst  forth  most  heartily. 

"  But  let  us  read  on.  Whose  style  is  this,  think  you  ? 
— '  France  possessed  within  her  dominion  every  nation 
from  the  North  Sea  to  the  Adriatic;  and  how  did  she 
employ  her  power  ? — in  restoring  to  Batavia  self-govern- 
ment, in  giving  liberty  to  Switzerland,  and  in  ceding  Venice 
to  Austria,  while  the  troops  at  the  very  gates  of  Vienna 
are  halted  and  repass  the  Rhine  once  more.  Are  these 
the  evidences  of  ambition — are  these  the  signs  of  that 
overweening  lust  of  territory  with  which  England  dares  to 
reproach  us  ?  And  if  such  passions  prevailed,  what  was 
easier  than  to  have  indulged  them  ?  Was  not  Italy  our 
own  ?  Were  not  Batavia,  Switzerland,  Portugal,  all  ours  ? 
But  no,  peace  was  the  desire  of  the  nation — peace  at  any 
cost.  The  colony  of  St.  Domingo,  that  immense  territory, 
was  not  conceived  a  sacrifice  too  great  to  secure  such  a 
blessing.' " 

"  Pardieu  I  De  Beanvais,  I  can  bear  it  no  longer." 

"  You  must  let  me  give  you  the  reverse  of  the  medal. 
Hear  now  what  England  has  done." 

"He  writes  well,  at  least  for  the  taste  of  newspaper 
readers,"  said  the  abbe,  musingly;  "but  still  he  only 


THE   SUPPER   AT    "  BEAUVILLIEBS'S."  241 

understands  the  pen  as  he  does  the  sword  ;  it  must  be  a 
weapon  of  attack." 

"  Who  is  the  writer,  then  ?  "  said  I,  in  a  half- whisper. 

"  Who  ! — can  you  doubt  it  ? — Bonaparte  himself.  What 
other  man  in  France  would  venture  to  pronounce  so  autho- 
ritatively on  the  prospects  and  the  intentions  of  the 
nation  ?  " 

"  Or  who,"  said  the  abbe,  in  his  dry  manner,  "  could 
speak  with  such  accuracy  of  the  '  Illustrious  and  Magnani- 
mous Chief  that  rules  her  destinies  ?  " 

"  It  is  growing  late,"  said  the  prefet,  with  the  air  of  one 
who  took  no  pleasure  in  the  conversation,  "and  I  start  for 
Rouen  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Come,  come,  prefet,  one  bumper  before  we  part,"  said 
De  Beauvais  ;  "  something  has  put  you  out  of  temper  this 
evening ;  yet  I  think  I  know  a  toast  can  restore  you  to 
good  humour  again." 

The  old  man  lifted  his  hand  with  a  gesture  of  caution, 
while  he  suddenly  directed  a  look  towards  me. 

'*  No,  no  ;  don't  be  afraid,"  said  De  Beauvais,  laughing; 
"  I  think  you'll  acquit  me  of  any  rashness :  fill  up,  then, 
and  here  let  us  drink  to  one  in  the  old  palace  of  the  Tuileries 
who,  at  this  moment,  can  bring  us  back  in  memory  to  the 
most  glorious  days  of  our  country." 

"  Pardieu  I  that  must  be  the  First  Consul,  I  suppose," 
whispered  the  abbe  to  the  prefet,  who  dashed  his  glass 
with  such  violence  on  the  table  as  to  smash  it  in  a 
hundred  pieces. 

"See  what  comes  of  impatience,"  cried  De  Beauvais, 
laughing  ;  "  and  now  you  have  not  wherewithal  to  pledge 
my  fair  cousin  the  '  Rose  of  Provence.'  " 

"  The  Rose  of  Provence,"  said  each  in  turn,  while, 
excited  by  the  wine,  of  which  I  had  drunk  freely,  and 
earned  away  by  Mie  enthusiasm  of  the  moment,  I  re- 
echoed the  words  in  such  a  tone  as  drew  every  eye  upon  me. 

"  Ah  1  you  know  my  cousin,  then  ?  "  said  De  Beauvais, 
looking  at  me  with  a  strange  mixture  of  curiosity  and 
astonishment. 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  I  have  seen  her 1  saw  her  this  even- 
ing at  the  Palace." 

"Well,  I  must  present  you,"  said  he,  smiling  good* 
naturedly. 


TOM   BURKE   OF   "  OURS.** 

Before  1  could  mutter  my  acknowledgment,  the  party 
bad  risen,  and  were  taking  leave  of  each  other  for  the 
night. 

"I  shall  see  you  soon  again,  Burke,"  said  De  Beauvais, 
as  he  pressed  my  hand  warmly  ;  "  and  now,  adieu."  With 
that  we  parted ;  and  I  took  my  way  back  towards  the 
Polytechnique,  my  mind  full  of  strange  incidents  of  this 
the  most  eventful  night  in  my  quiet  and  monotonous 
existence. 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

TH*   "TWO  VISITS." 

AMID  all  the  stirring  duties  of  the  next  day — amid  all  the 
excitement  of  a  new  position — my  mind  recurred  con- 
tinually to  the  events  of  the  previous  twenty-four  hours. 
Now  dwelling  on  the  soiree  at  the  Palace — the  unac- 
customed splendour,  the  rank,  the  beauty  I  had  witnessed ; 
now  on  that  eventful  moment  I  spent  behind  the  screen ; 
then  on  my  strange  rencontre  with  my  antagonist,  and 
that  still  stranger  supper  that  followed  it. 

It  was  not,  indeed,  without  certain  misgivings,  which  I 
could  neither  account  for  nor  dismiss  from  my  mind,  that 
I  reflected  on  the  character  and  conversation  of  my  new 
associates. 

The  tone  of  levity  in  which  they  dared  to  speak  of  him 
whose  name  was  to  me  something  bordering  on  idolatry — 
the  liberty  with  which  they  ventured  to  canvass  his 
measures  and  his  opinions,  even  to  ridiculing  them,  were 
so  many  puzzles  to  my  mind ;  and  I  half  reproached  my- 
self for  having  tamely  listened  to  language  which  now, 
as  I  thought  over  it,  seemed  to  demand  my  notice.  Totally 
ignorant  of  all  political  intrigue — unconscious  that  any 
party  did  or  could  exist  in  France,  save  that  of  the  First 
Consul  himself — I  could  find  no  solution  to  the  enigma, 


THE  "TWO  VISITS."  243 

and  at  last  began  to  think  that  I  had  been  exaggerating 
to  myself  the  words  1  had  heard,  and  permitting  my 
ignorance  to  weigh  with  me,  where,  with  more  knowledge 
1  should  have  seen  nothing  reprehensible.  And  if  the 
spirit  in  which  they  discussed  the  acts  of  Bonaparte  dif- 
fered from  what  I  had  been  accustomed  to,  might  it  not 
rather  proceed  from  my  own  want  of  acquaintance  with 
the  usages  of  society,  than  any  deficiency  in  attachment 
on  their  sides  ?  The  prefet  was,  of  course,  as  an  officer 
of  the  Government,  no  mean  judge  of  what  became  him — 
the  abbe,  too,  as  a  man  of  education  and  in  holy  orders, 
was  equally  unlikely  to  express  unbecoming  opinions ;  the 
Russian  scarcely  spoke  at  all;  and  as  for  De  Beauvais, 
his  careless  and  headlong  impetuosity  made  me  feel  easy 
on  his  score  ;  and  so  I  reasoned  myself  into  the  conviction 
that  it  was  only  the  ordinary  bearing  and  every- day  habit 
of  society  to  speak  thus  openly  of  one  who,  in  the  nar- 
rower limits  of  our  little  world,  was  deemed  something 
to  worship. 

Shall  I  own  what  then  I  could  scarcely  have  confessed 
to  myself,  that  the  few  words  De  Beauvais  spoke  at  part- 
ing— the  avowed  cousinship  with  her  they  called  "  La 
Rose  de  Provence  " — did  much  to  induce  this  conviction 
on  my  mind  ?  while  his  promise  to  present  me  was  i 
pledge  I  could  not  possibly  believe  consistent  with  any  but 
right  loyal  thoughts  and  honest  doctrines.  Still,  I  would 
have  given  anything  for  one  friend  to  advise  with — one 
faithful  counsellor  to  aid  me.  But  again  was  I  alone  in 
the  world,  and,  save  the  short  and  not  over-flattering 
reception  of  my  colonel,  I  had  neither  seen  nor  spoken  to 
one  of  my  new  corps. 

That  evening  I  joined  my  regiment  and  took  up  my 
quarters  in  the  barracks,  where  already  the  rumour  of 
important  political  events  had  reached  the  officers ;  and 
they  stood  in  groups  discussing  the  chances  of  a  war,  or 
listening  to  the  Moniteur,  which  was  read  out  by  one  of 
the  party.  What  a  strange  thrill  it  sent  through  me  to 
think  that  I  was  privy  to  the  deepest  secret  of  that  im- 
portant step  on  which  the  peace  of  Europe  was  resting — 
that  I  had  heard  the  very  words  as  they  fell  from  the  lips 
of  him  on  whom  the  destiny  of  millions  then  depended ! 
With  what  a  different  interpretation,  to  me  came  those 


244  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

passages  in  the  Government  journal  which  breathed  of 
peace,  and  spoke  of  painful  sacrifices  to  avoid  a  war,  for 
which  already  his  very  soul  was  thirsting ;  and  how,  to 
ray  young  heart,  did  that  passion  for  glory  exalt  him 
who  could  throw  all  into  the  scale !  The  proud  position 
he  occupied — the  mighty  chief  of  a  mighty  nation — the 
adulation  in  which  he  daily  lived — the  gorgeous  splendour 
of  a  Court  no  country  in  Europe  equalled — all  these,  and 
more — his  future  destiny — did  he  set  upon  the  cast  for  the 
great  game  his  manly  spirit  gloried  in. 

In  such  thoughts  as  these  1  lived  as  in  a  world  of  my 
own ;  companionship  I  had  none.  My  brother-officers,  with 
few  exceptions,  had  risen  from  the  ranks,  and  were  of  that 
class  which  felt  no  pleasure  save  in  the  coarse  amusements 
of  the  barrack-room,  or  the  vulgar  jests  of  the  service. 
The  better  classes  lived  studiously  apart  from  these,  and 
made  no  approaches  to  intimacy  with  any  newly-joined 
officer  with  whose  family  and  connections  they  were  un- 
acquainted ;  and  I,  from  my  change  of  country,  stood  thus 
alone,  unacknowledged  and  unknown.  At  first  this  isola- 
tion pained  and  grieved  me,  but  gradually  it  became  less 
irksome  ;  and  when  at  length  they  who  had  at  first  avoided 
and  shunned  my  intimacy  showed  themselves  disposed  to 
know  me,  my  pride,  which  before  would  have  been  gra- 
tified by  such  an  acknowledgment,  was  now  wounded,  and 
I  coolly  declined  their  advances. 

Some  weeks  passed  in  this  manner,  during  which  I 
never  saw  or  heard  of  De  Beanvais,  and  at  length  began  to 
feel  somewhat  offended  at  the  suddenness  with  which  he 
seemed  to  drop  an  intimacy  begun  at  his  own  desire ;  when 
one  evening,  as  I  had  returned  to  my  barrack-room  after 
parade,  I  heard  a  knock  at  my  door.  I  rose  and  opened 
it,  when,  to  my  surprise,  I  beheld  De  Beauvais  before  me. 
He  was  much  thinner  than  when  I  last  saw  him,  and  his  dress 
and  appearance  all  betokened  far  less  of  care  and  attention. 

"  Are  these  your  quarters  ? "  said  he,  entering  and 
throwing  a  cautious  look  about.  "  Are  you  alone  here  ?  " 

;<  Yes,"  said  I,  "perfectly." 

"  You  expect  no  one  ?  " 

"  Not  any,"  said  I  again,  still  more  surprised  at  the 
agitation  of  his  manner,  and  the  evident  degree  of  anxiety 
he  laboured  under. 


THE   "  TWO  VISITS."  245 

"  Thank  Heaven  !  "  said  he,  drawing  a  deep  sigh  as  he 
threw  himself  on  my  little  camp-bed,  and  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands. 

Seeing  that  something  weighed  heavily  on  him,  I  half 
feared  to  interfere  with  the  current  of  his  thoughts,  and 
merely  drew  my  chair  and  sat  down  beside  him. 

"  I  say,  Burke,  mon  cher,  have  you  any  wine  ?  Let  me 
have  a  glass  or  two,  for,  save  some  galette,  and  that  not 
the  best  either,  I  have  tasted  nothing  these  last  twenty- 
four  hours." 

I  soon  set  before  him  the  contents  of  my  humble  larder, 
and  in  a  few  moments  he  rallied  a  good  deal,  and  looking 
up  with  a  smile  said, — 

"  I  think  you  have  been  cultivating  y&wr  education  as 
gourmand  since  I  saw  you.  That  pasty  is  worthy  our 
friend  in  the  Palais  Royal.  Well,  and  how  have  you 
been  since  we  met?  " 

"  Let  me  rather  ask  you"  said  I.  "  You  are  not 
looking  so  well  as  the  last  time  I  saw  you.  Have  you 
been  ill  ?  " 

"  111 !  no,  not  ill.  Yet  I  can't  say  so ;  for  I  have  suf- 
fered a  good  deal,  too.  No,  my  friend ;  I  have  had  much 
to  harass  and  distress  me.  I  have  been  travelling,  too, 
long  distances  and  weary  ones — met  some  disappointments, 
and  altogether  the  world  has  not  gone  so  well  with  me  as 
I  think  it  ought.  And  now  of  you — what  of  yourself?  " 

'•  Alas!"  said  I,  "if  you  have  met  much  to  annoy,  I 
have  only  lived  a  dull  life  of  daily  monotony.  If  it  has 
had  little  to  Distress,  there  is  fully  as  little  to  cheer;  and 
J  half  suspect  the  fine  illusions  I  used  to  picture  to  my- 
self of  a  soldier's  career  had  very  little  connection  with 
reality." 

As  De  Beauvais  seemed  to  listen  with  more  attention 
than  such  a  theme  would  naturally  call  for,  I  gradually 
was  drawn  into  a  picture  of  my  barrack  life,  in  which  I 
dwelt  at  length  on  my  own  solitary  position,  and  the  want 
of  that  companionship  which  formed  the  chief  charm  of  my 
schoolboy  life.  To  all  this  he  paid  a  marked  attention — 
now  questioning  me  on  some  unexplained  point — now 
agreeing  with  me  in  what  I  said  by  a  word  or  a  gesture. 

"  And  do  you  know,  Burke,"  said  he,  interrupting  me 
in  my  description  of  those  whose  early  coldness  of  man- 

Vol.  28-(P) 


246  TOM    BUBKE    OF    "  OUES." 

ner  had  chilled  my  first  advances — "  and  do  you  know," 
said  he,  impetuously,  "  who  these  aristocrats  are  ?  The 
sons  of  honest  bourgeois  of  Paris.  Their  fathers  are 
worthy  men  of  the  Rue  Vivienne  or  the  Palais — excellent 
people,  I've  no  doubt ;  but  very  far  better  judges  of  point 
lace  and  p&tk  de  Perigord,  than  disputed  precedence  and 
armorial  quarheinngs.  Far  better  the  others,  the  humble 
soldiers  of  fortune,  whose  highest  pride  is  their  own  daring, 
their  own  undaunted  heroism.  Well,  well,"  added  he, 
after  a  pause,  "  I  must  get  you  away  from  this — I  can 
manage  it  in  a  day  or  two.  You  shall  be  sent  down  to 
Versailles  with  a  detachment." 

I  could  not  help  starting  with  surprise  at  these  words, 
and  through  all  the  pleasure  they  gave  me  my  astonish- 
ment was  still  predominant. 

"  1  see  you  are  amazed  at  what  I  say,  but  it  is  not  so 
wonderful  as  you  think.  My  cousin  has  only  to  hint  to 
Madame  Bonaparte,  who  is  at  present  there,  and  the  thing 
is  done." 

I  blushed  deeply  as  I  thought  of  the  agency  through 
which  my  wishes  were  to  meet  accomplishment,  and  turned 
away  to  hide  my  embarrassment. 

"  By  the  bye,  I  have  not  presented  you  to  her  yet.  I've 
had  no  opportunity ;  but  now  I  shall  do  so  at  once." 

"  Pray,  tell  me  your  cousin's  name,"  said  I,  anxious  to 
say  anything  to  conceal  my  confusion.  "  I've  only  heard 
her  name  called  '  La  Rose  de  Provence.'  " 

"  Yes,  that  was  a  silly  fancy  of  Madame  la  Consulesse, 
because  Marie  is  Provencals.  But  her  name  is  De  Roch- 
fort,  at  least  her  mother's  name ;  for,  by  another  caprice, 
she  was  forbidden  by  Bonaparte  to  bear  her  father's 
name.  But  this  is  rather  a  sore  topic  with  me.  Let  us 
change  it.  How  did  you  like  my  friends  the  other  even- 
ing ?  The  abbe  is  agreeable,  i  *ne  not  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  I,  hesitating  somewhat;  "but  I  am  so 
unaccustomed  to  hear  General  Bonaparte  discussed  so 
freely '? 

"  That  absurd  Polytechnique ! "  interrupted  De  Beau- 
vais.  "  How  many  a  fine  fellow  has  it  spoiled  with  its 
ridiculous  notions  and  foolish  prejudices!" 

"  Come,  come,"  said  I,  "  you  must  not  call  prejudices 
the  attachment  which  I,  and  all  who  wear  an  epaulette, 


THE  "TWO  VISITS.**  247 

feel  in  our  glorious  chief.  There,  there ;  don't  laugh,  or 
you'll  provoke  me ;  for  if  I,  an  alien,  feel  this,  how  should 
you,  who  are  a  Frenchman  born,  sympathize  with  such  a 
proud  career  ?  " 

"  If  you  talk  of  sympathy,  Burke,  let  me  ask  you,  have 
you  ever  heard  speak  of  certain  old  families  of  these 
realms,  who  have  been  driven  forth  and  expatriated  to 
seek  a  home  amongst  strangers,  themselves  the  descend- 
ants  of-  the  fairest  chivalry  of  our  land — the  proud  scions 
of  St.  Louis  ? — and  has  your  sympathy  never  strayed  across 
sea  to  mingle  with  their  sorrows?  *'  His  voice  trembled 
as  he  spoke,  and  a  large  tear  filled  his  eye  and  tracked  its 
way  along  his  cheek,  as  the  last  word  vibrated  on  his 
tongue  ;  and  then,  as  if  suddenly  remembering  how  far 
he  had  been  carried  away  by  momentary  impulse,  he 
added,  in  an  altered  voice:  "  But  what  have  we  to  do 
with  these  things  ?  Our  road  is  yet  to  be  travelled  by 
either  of  us.  Yours  a  fair  path  enough,  if  it  only  fulfil 
its  early  promise.  The  fortunate  fellow  that  can  win  his 
grade  while  yet  a  schoolboy " 

"  How  came  you  to  know ?  " 

"  Oh !  I  know  more  than  that,  Burke ;  and,  believe 
me,  if  my  foolish  conduct  the  first  day  we  met  had  led  to 
anything  disastrous,  I  should  have  passed  a  life  of  sorrow 
for  it  ever  after ;  but  we  shall  have  time  enough  to  talk 
over  all  these  matters  in  the  green  alleys  of  Versailles, 
where  I  hope  to  see  you  before  a  week  be  over.  Great 
events  may  happen  ere  long,  too.  Burke,  you  don't 
know  it,  but  I  can  tell  you,  a  war  with  England  is  at 
this  moment  on  the  eve  of  declaration." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  I,  somewhat  piqued  by  the  tone  of 
superiority  in  which  he  had  spoken  for  some  minutes, 
and  anxious  to  assume  for  myself  a  position  which,  I 
forgot,  conferred  no  credit  by  the  manner  of  its  attain- 
ment, "  I  know  more  of  that  than  you  are  aware  of." 

"  Oh,"  replied  he,  carelessly,  "  the  gossip  of  a  mess  is 
but  little  to  be  relied  on.  The  sabreurs  will  always  tell 
you  that  the  order  to  march  is  given." 

"  I  don't  mean  that,"  said  I,  haughtily.     "  My  infor- 
mation has  a  higher  source — the  highest  of  all — General 
Bonaparte  himself." 
"  How ! — what ! — Bonaparte  himself  1 " 


248  TOM  BTJBKB  OF  "OTTBS." 

"  Listen  to  me,"  said  I ;  and,  hurried  on  by  a  foolish 
vanity  and  a  strange  desire  I  cannot  explain,  to  make  a 
confidant  in  what  I  felt  to  be  a  secret  too  weighty  for  my 
own  bosom,  I  told  him  all  that  I  had  overheard  when 
seated  behind  the  screen  in  the  talon  at  the  Tuileries. 

"You  heard  this — you,  yourself?"  cried  he,  as  his 
eyes  flashed,  and  he  grasped  my  arm  with  an  eager  grip. 

"  Yes,  with  my  own  ears  I  heard  it,"  said  I,  half 
trembling  at  the  disclosure  I  made,  and  ready  to  give  all 
I  possessed  to  recall  my  words. 

"  My  friend,  my  dear  friend,"  said  he,  impetuously, 
"  you  must  hesitate  no  longer — be  one  of  us." 

I  started  at  the  words,  and,  growing  pale  with  agita- 
tion as  the  very  thought  of  the  importance  of  what  I  had 
related  flashed  across  me,  I  stammered  out,  "  Take  care 
what  you  propose  to  me,  De  Beauyais.  I  do  not,  I  can- 
not, fathom  your  meaning  now  ;  but  if  I  thought  that 
anything  like  treachery  to  the  First  Consul — that  any- 
thing traitorous  to  the  great  cause  of  liberty  for  which  he 
has  fought  and  conquered,  was  meditated,  I'd  go  forth- 
with and  tell  him,  word  for  word,  all  I  have  spoken  now, 
even  though  the  confession  might,  as  it  would,  humble 
me  for  ever,  and  destroy  all  my  future  hope  of  advance- 
ment." 

"  And  be  well  laughed  at  for  your  pains,  foolish  boy," 
said  he,  throwing  himself  back  in  his  chair,  and  bursting 
out  into  a  fit  of  laughter.  "  No,  no,  Burke,  you  muat 
not  do  anything  half  so  ridiculous,  or  my  pretty  cousin 
could  never  look  at  you  without  a  smile  ever  after ;  and, 
a  propos  of  that — when  shall  I  present  you  ?  That 
splendid  jacket,  and  all  that  finery  of  dolman  there,  will 
make  sad  work  of  her  poor  heart." 

I  blushed  deeply  at  the  silly  impetuosity  I  had  betrayed 
myself  into,  and  muttered  some  equally  silly  apology  for 
it;  still,  young  as  I  was,  I  could  perceive  that  my  words 
made  no  common  impression  on  him,  and  would  have 
given  my  best  blood  to  recall  them. 

"  Do  you  know,  De  Beauvais,"  said  I,  affecting  as  much 
of  coolness  as  I  could — "  do  yon  know,  I  half  regret  having 
told  you  this.  The  manner  in  which  I  heard  this  conver- 
sation— though,  as  you  will  see,  quite  involuntary  on  my 
part — should  have  prevented  my  ever  having  repeated  it ; 


THE    "  TWO   VISITS."  249 

and  now  the  only  reparation  I  can  make  is,  to  wait  on 
my  colonel,  explain  the  whole  circumstance,  and  ask  his 
advice." 

'*  In  plain  words,  to  make  public  what  at  present  is 
only  confided  to  a  friend.  Well,  you  think  the  phrase 
too  strong  for  one  you  have  seen  but  twice — the  first  time 
not  exactly  on  terms  such  as  waiTant  the  phrase.  But 
come,  if  you  can't  trust  me,  I'll  see  if  I  can't  trust  you." 

He  drew  at  these  words  a  roll  of  paper  from  his  pocket, 
and  was  proceeding  to  open  it  on  the  table,  when  a  violent 
knocking  was  heard  at  my  door. 

"  What's  that — who  can  it  be  ?  "  said  he,  starting  up, 
and  growing  pale  as  death. 

The  look  of  terror  in  his  face  appalled  me,  and  I  stood, 
not  able  to  reply,  or  even  move  towards  the  door,  when 
the  knocking  was  repeated  much  louder,  and  I  heard  my 
name  called  out ;  pointing  to  a  closet  which  led  from  the 
room,  and  without  speaking  a  word,  I  walked  forward 
and  unlocked  the  door;  a  tall  man,  wrapped  in  a  blue 
cloak,  and  wearing  a  cocked-hat,  covered  with  oilskin, 
stood  before  me,  accompanied  by  a  sergeant  of  my  troop. 

"  This  is  the  sous-lieutenant,  sir,"  said  the  sergeant, 
touching  his  cap. 

"  That  will  do,"  replied  the  other ;  "  you  may  leave  us 
now."  Then  turning  to  me  he  added,  "  May  I  have  the 
favour  of  a  few  minutes'  conversation  with  yon,  Mr.  Burke? 
I  am  Monsieur  Gisquet,  chef  de  police  of  the  depart- 
ment." 

A  trembling  ran  through  me  at  the  words,  and  I  stam- 
mered out  something  scarce  audible  in  reply.  Monsieur 
Gisquet  followed  me  as  I  led  the  way  into  my  room, 
which  already  had  been  deserted  by  De  Beauvais,  and, 
casting  a  quick  glance  around,  he  leisurely  took  off  his  hat 
and  cloak  and  drew  a  chair  towards  the  table. 

"  Are  we  alone,  sir  ?  "  said  he,  in  a  measured  tone  of 
voice,  while  his  eye  fell  with  a  peculiar  meaning  on  a  chair 
which  stood  opposite  to  mine,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
stove. 

"  I  had  a  friend  with  me  when  you  knocked,"  I 
muttered,  in  a  broken  and  uncertain  accent ;  "  but 

perhaps "  Before  I  could  finish  my  sentence  the 

door  of  the  cabinet  slowly  opened,  and  De  Beauvais 


250  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS.** 

appeared,  but  so  metamorphosed  I  could  scarcely  recog- 
nize him  ;  for,  short  as  the  interval  was,  he  had  put  on  my 
old  uniform  of  the  Polytechnique,  which,  from  our  simi- 
larity in  height,  fitted  him  perfectly. 

"  All  safe,  Tom,"  said  he,  stealing  out,  with  an  easy 
smile  on  his  countenance.  "  Par  St.  Denis!  I  thougVit 
it  was  old  Legrauge  himself  come  to  look  for  me.  Ah, 
monsieur,  how  d'ye  do  ?  You  have  given  me  a  rare  fright 
to-night.  I  came  to  spend  the  day  with  my  friend  here, 
and,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  have  outstayed  my  time. 
The  ecole  closes  at  nine,  so  that  I'm  in  for  a  week's  arrest 
at  least." 

"  A  cool  confession  this,  sir,  to  a  minister  of  police," 
said  Gisquet,  sternly,  while  his  dark  eyes  surveyed  the 
speaker  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Not  when  that  minister  is  called  Gisquet,"  said  he, 
readily,  and  bowing  courteously  as  he  spoke. 

"  You  know  me,  then  ?  "  said  the  other,  still  peering 
at  him  with  a  sharp  look. 

"  Only  from  your  likeness  to  a  little  boy  in  my  com- 
pany," said  he  ;  "  Henri  Gisquet :  a  fine  little  fellow  he  is, 
and  one  of  the  cleverest  in  the  school." 

"  You  are  right,  sir,  he  is  my  son,"  said  the  minister, 
as  a  pleased  smile  passed  over  his  swarthy  features. 
"  Come,  I  think  I  must  get  you  safe  through  your  dilemma. 
Take  this ;  the  officer  of  the  night  will  be  satisfied  with 
the  explanation,  and  Monsieur  Legrange  will  not  hear 
of  it." 

So  saying,  he  seized  a  pen,  and  writing  a  few  lines 
rapidly  on  a  piece  of  paper,  he  folded  it  note  fashion,  and 
handed  it  to  De  Beauvais. 

"  A  handsome  ring,  sir,"  said  he,  suddenly,  and  holding 
the  fingers  within  his  own  ;  "  a  very  costly  one,  too." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  De  Beauvais,  blushing  scarlet.  "  A 
cousin  of  mine " 

"  Ha,  ha !  an  amourette,  too.  Well,  well,  young  gentle- 
man, no  need  of  further  confessions.  Lose  no  more  time 
here — bon  soir." 

"  Adieu,  Burke,"  said  De  Beauvais,  shaking  my  hand 
with  a  peculiar  pressure. 

"  Adieu,  Monsieur  Gisquet.  This  order  will  pass  me 
through  the  barrack,  won't  it  ?  " 


THE    "  TWO    VISITS.'*  251 

"  Yes ;  to  be  sure.  You  need  fear  no  interference  with 
my  people  either,  go  where  you  will  this  evening.*' 

"  Thanks,  sir,  once  more,"  said  he,  and  departed. 

"  Now  for  our  business,  Mr.  Burke,"  said  the  minister, 
opening  his  packet  of  papers  before  him,  and  commencing 
to  con  over  its  contents.  "  I  shall  ask  you  a  few  ques- 
tions, to  which  you  will  please  to  reply  with  all  the  ac- 
curacy you  can  command,  remembering  that  you  are  liable 
to  be  called  on  to  verify  any  statement  hereafter  on  oath. 
With  whom  did  you  speak  on  the  evening  of  the  second  of 
May,  at  the  soiree  of  Madame  Bonaparte  ?  " 

"  I  scarcely  remember  if  I  spoke  to  any  one  save  Madame 
herself;  a  strange  gentleman,  whose  name  I  forget,  pre- 
sented me ;  one  or  two  others,  also  unknown  to  me,  may 
have  spoken  a  passing  word  or  so ;  and  when  coming  away 
1  met  Monsieur  de  Beauvais." 

"  Monsieur  de  Beauvais !  who  is  he  ?  " 

"  Ma  foi,  I  can't  tell  you.  I  saw  him  the  day  before 
for  the  first  time :  we  renewed  our  acquaintance,  and  we 
supped  together." 

"  At  Beauvilliers's  ?  "  said  he,  interrupting. 

"  Pardieu  !  monsieur,"  said  I,  somewhat  stung  at  the 
espionage  on  my  movements,  "  you  seem  to  know  every- 
thing so  well  already,  it  is  quite  needless  to  interrogate  me 
any  further." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  replied  he,  coolly.  "  I  wish  to  have 
the  names  of  the  party  you  sapped  with." 

"  Well,  there  was  one  who  was  called  the  prefet,  a  large, 
fall,  elderly  man." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know  him,"  interrupted  Gisquet  again  ; 
"  and  the  others  ?  " 

"  There  was  an  abbe,  and  a  secretary  of  the  Russian 
mission." 

"  No  other  ?  "  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  disappointment. 

"  No  one,  save  De  Beauvais  and  myself — we  were  but 
five  in  all." 

"  Did  no  one  come  in  during  the  evening  ?  " 

"  No,  not  any." 

"Nor  did  any  leave  the  party  ?  " 

"  No  ;  we  separated  at  the  same  moment." 

"  Who  accompanied  you  to  the  barracks  ?  " 

"  No  one.     I  returned  alone." 


TOM   BTJRKE    OF    "  OURS. 

"  And  this  Monsieur  De  Beauvais ;  yoa  can*t  tell  any- 
thing of  him  ?  What  age  is  he  ?  what  height  ?  " 

*'  About  my  own,"  said  I,  blushing  deeply  at  the 
thought  of  the  events  of  a  few  moments  back.  "  He 
may  be  somewhat  older ;  but  he  looks  not  much  more 
than  twenty-one  or  two." 

"  Have  you  mentioned  any  of  these  circumstances  tc 
any  of  your  brother  officers  or  to  your  colonel  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  never." 

"  Very  right,  sir.  These  are  times  in  which  discretion 
is  of  no  common  importance.  I  have  only  to  recommend 
similar  circumspection  in  future.  It  is  probable  that 
some  of  these  gentlemen  may  visit  you  and  write  to  you 
— they  may  invite  you  to  sup  or  to  dine ;  if  so,  sir,  accept 
the  invitation  ;  be  cautious,  however,  not  to  speak  of  this 
interview  to  any  one.  Remember,  sir,  I  am  the  messen- 
ger of  one  who  never  forgave  a  breach  of  trust,  but  who 
also  never  fails  to  reward  loyalty  and  attachment.  If  you 
be  but  prudent,  Mr.  Burke,  your  fortune  is  certain." 

With  these  words,  Monsieur  Gisquet  threw  his  cloak 
over  his  shoulder,  and  raising  his  hat,  he  bowed  formally 
to  me,  and  withdrew,  leaving  me  to  meditations  which,  I 
need  not  say,  were  none  of  the  happiest. 

If  my  fears  were  excited  by  the  thought  of  the  acquain- 
tances I  had  so  rashly  formed,  so  also  was  my  pride  in- 
sulted by  the  system  of  watching  to  which  my  move- 
ments had  been  subjected ;  and  deeper  still,  by  the  insult- 
ing nature  of  the  proposal  the  minister  of  police  had  not 
scrupled  to  make  to  me,  on  reflecting  over  which,  only, 
did  I  perceive  how  base  and  dishonourable  it  was. 

"  What !  "  asked  I,  of  myself,  "  is  it  a  spy — is  it  a  false 
underhand  betrayer  of  the  men  into  whose  society  I  have 
been  admitted  on  terms  of  friendly  intercourse  he  would 
make  of  me  ?  What  saw  he  in  me  or  in  my  actions,  to 
dare  so  far  ?  Was  not  the  very  cloth  I  wear  enough  to 
guard  me  against  such  an  insult?  "  Then  came  the  mad- 
dening reflection,  **  Why  had  I  not  thought  of  this 
sooner  ?  Why  had  I  not  rejected  his  proposal  with 
scorn,  and  told  him  that  I  was  not  of  the  stuff  he  looked 
for  ?  " 

Bat  what  is  it  that  he  wished  to  learn  ?  and  who  were 
t  hese  men,  and  what  were  their  designs  ?  These  were  ques- 


THE    "  TWO   VISITS."  253 

tions  that  flashed  across  me,  and  I  trembled  to  think  how 
deeply  implicated  I  might  become,  at  any  moment,  in 
plans  of  which  I  knew  nothing — merely  from  the  impru- 
dence with  which  I  had  made  their  acquaintance.  The 
escape  of  De  Beauvais,  if  discovered,  would  also  inevitably 
involve  me,  and  thus  did  I  seem  hurried  along  by  a  train 
of  incidents,  without  will  or  concurrence,  each  step  but 
increasing  the  darkness  around  me. 

That  Gisquet  knew  most  of  the  party  was  clear;  De 
Beauvais  alone  seemed  personally  unknown  to  him.  What, 
then,  did  he  want  of  me  ?  Alas  !  it  was  a  tangled  web  I 
could  make  nothing  of — and  all  I  could  resolve  on  was,  to 
avoid  in  future  all  renewal  of  intimacy  with  De  Beauvais, 
to  observe  the  greatest  circumspection  with  regard  to  all 
new  acquaintance,  and,  since  the  police  thought  it  worth 
their  while  to  set  spies  upon  my  track,  to  limit  any  excur- 
sions, for  some  time  at  least,  to  the  routine  of  my  duty, 
and  the  bounds  of  the  barrack-yard.  These  were  wise 
resolutions,  and  if  somewhat  late  in  coming,  yet  not  with- 
out their  comfort ;  above  all,  because,  in  my  heart,  I  f«lt 
no  misgivings  of  affection,  no  lack  of  loyalty  to  him  who 
was  still  my  idol. 

'*  Well,  well,"  thought  I,  "  something  may  come  of  this 
— perhaps  a  war ;  if  so,  happy  shall  1  be  to  leave  Paris 
and  all  its  intrigues  behind  me,  and  seek  distinction  in  a 
more  congenial  sphere,  and  under  other  banners  than  a 
police  minister  would  afford  me." 

With  thoughts  like  these  I  fell  asleep  to  dream  over  all 
events  of  the  preceding  day,  and  wake  the  next  morning 
with  an  aching  head  and  confused  brain — my  only  clear 
impression  being,  that  some  danger  hung  over  me,  but 
from  what  quarter,  and  how,  or  in  what  way  it  was  to  be 
met  or  averted,  I  could  not  guess. 

The  whole  day  I  felt  a  feverish  dread  lest  De  Beauvaia 
should  appear.  Something  whispered  me  that  my  diffi- 
culties were  to  come  of  my  acquaintance  with  him,  and  I 
studiously  passed  my  time  among  my  brother  officers, 
knowing  that,  so  long  as  I  remained  among  them,  he  was 
not  likely  to  visit  me ;  and  when  evening  came,  I  gladly 
accepted  an  invitation  to  a  barrack-room  supper,  which, 
but  the  night  before,  I  should  have  declined  without  hesi- 
tation. 


254  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS." 

This  compliance  on  my  part  seemed  well  taken  by  my 
companions,  and,  in  their  frank  and  cordial  reception  of 
me,  I  felt  a  degree  of  reproach  to  myself  for  my  having 
hitherto  lived  estranged  from  them.  We  had  just  taken 
our  places  at  table,  when  the  door  was  flung  wide  open, 
and  a  young  captain  of  the  regiment  rushed  in,  waving  a 
paper  over  his  head,  as  he  called  out, — 

"  Good  news,  mes  braves,  glorious  news  for  you  !  Listen 
to  this :  '  The  English  ambassador  has  demanded  his 
passports,  and  left  Paris ;  expresses  are  sent  off  to  the 
fourth  corps,  to  move  towards  the  coast ;  twelve  regiments 
have  received  orders  to  march ;  so  that  before  my  Lord 
leaves  Calais,  he  may  witness  a  review  of  the  army.'  " 

'«  Is  this  true  ?  " 

"  It  is  all  certain." 

"  Bead  it ;  here's  the  Monitewr,  with  the  oflicial  an- 
nouncement." 

In  an  instant  a  dozen  heads  were  bent  over  the  paper, 
each  eager  to  scan  the  paragraph  so  long  and  ardently 
desired. 

"  Come,  Burke,  I  hope  you  have  not  forgotten  your 
English,"  said  the  Major  ;  "we  shall  wanb  you  soon  to  in- 
terpret for  us  in  London,  if,  pardieu,  we  can  ever  find  our 
way  through  the  fogs  of  that  ill-staiTed  island." 

I  hung  my  head  without  speaking — the  miserable  isola- 
tion of  him  who  has  no  country,  is  a  sad  and  sickening 
sense  of  want  no  momentary  enthusiasm,  no  impulse  of 
high  daring,  can  make  up  for.  Happily  for  me,  all  were 
too  deeply  interested  in  the  important  news  to  remark 
me,  or  pay  any  attention  to  my  feelings. 


255 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 

THB      MARCH      TO      VERSAILLES. 

THEY  who  remember  the  excised  state  of  England  on  the 
rupture  of  the  peace  of  Amiens — the  spirit  of  military 
ardour  that  animated  every  class  and  condition  of  life — 
the  national  hatred,  carried  to  the  highest  pitch  by  the 
instigations  and  attack  of  a  violent  press,  can  yet  form  but 
an  imperfect  notion  of  the  road  enthusiasm  that  prevailed 
in  France  on  the  same  occasion. 

The  very  fact  that  there  was  no  determinate  and  precise 
cause  of  quarrel  added  to  the  exasperation  on  both  sides. 
It  was  less  like  the  warfare  of  two  great  nations  than  the 
personal  animosity  of  two  high-spirited  and  passionate 
individuals,  who,  having  interchanged  words  of  insult, 
resolve  on  the  sword  as  the  only  arbiter  between  them. 

All  that  the  long  rivalry  of  centuries,  national  dislike, 
jealousy  in  every  form,  and  ridicule  in  a  thousand  shapes, 
could  suggest,  were  added  to  the  already  existing  hate,  and 
gave  to  the  coming  contest  a  character  of  blackest  venom. 
In  England,  the  tyrannic  rule  of  Bonaparte  gave  deep 
offence  to  all  true  lovers  of  liberty,  and  gave  rise  to  fears 
of  what  the  condition  of  their  own  country  would  become, 
should  he  continue  to  increase  his  power  by  conquest.  In 
France,  the  rapid  rise  to  honour  and  wealth,  the  career  of 
arms  so  singularly  favoured,  made  partisans  of  war  in 
every  quarter  of  the  kingdom.  The  peaceful  arts  were 
but  mean  pursuits  compared  with  that  royal  road  to  rank 
and  riches,  the  field  ot  battle  ;  and  their  self-interest  lent 
its  share  in  forming  the  spirit  of  hostility,  which  wanted 
no  element  of  hatred  to  make  it  perfect. 

Paris,  where  so  lately  nothing  was  heard  save  the  roll 
of  splendid  equipages — the  din  of  that  gay  world  whose 
business  is  amusement — where  amid  gilded  salons  the 
Toluptuous  habits  of  the  Consulate  mixed  with  the 


256  TOM   BURKE   OP   "  OTJKS." 

courtly  but  scarce  less  costly  display  of  military  splen- 
dour, became  now  like  a  vast  camp.  Regiments  poured 
in  daily  to  resume  their  march  the  next  morning ;  the  dull 
rumble  of  ammunition-waggons  and  caissons,  the  warlike 
clank  of  mounted  cavalry,  awoke  the  citizens  at  daybreak  ; 
the  pickets  of  hussar  corps  and  the  dusty  and  travel- 
stained  infantry  soldiers  filled  the  streets  at  nightfall ;  yet, 
through  all,  the  mad  gaiety  of  this  excited  nation  pre- 
vailed. The  cafes  were  crowded  with  eager  and  delighted 
faces ;  the  tables  spread  in  the  open  air  were  occupied  by 
groups  whose  merry  voices  and  ready  laughter  attested 
that  war  was  the  pastime  of  the  people,  and  the  very  note 
of  preparation  a  tocsin 'of  joy  and  festivity.  The  walls 
were  placarded  with,  inflammatory  addresses  to  the  pa- 
triotism and  spirit  of  Prance.  The  papers  teemed  with 
artful  and  cleverly-written  explanations  of  the  rupture 
with  England,  in  which  every  complaint  against  that 
country  was  magnified,  and  every  argument  put  forward 
to  prove  the  peaceful  desires  of  that  nation,  whose  present 
enthusiasm  for  war  was  an  unhappy  commentary  on  the 
assertion.  The  good  faith  of  France  was  extolled — the 
moderation  of  the  First  Consul  dwelt  upon;  and  the 
treachery  of  that  "perfidious  Albion,  that  respected  not 
the  faith  of  treaties,"  was  displayed  in  such  irrefragable 
clearness,  that  the  humblest  citizen  thought  the  cause 
his  own,  and  felt  the  coming  contest  the  ordeal  of  his 
own  honour. 

All  the  souvenirs  of  the  former  wars  were  invoked  to 
give  spirit  to  the  approaching  struggle,  and  they  were 
sufficiently  numerous  to  let  no  week  pass  over  without  at 
least  one  eventful  victory  to  commemorate. 

Now  it  was  Kellerman's  cuirassiers,  whose  laurel- 
wreathed  helmets  reminded  the  passing  stranger  that  on 
that  day  eight  years  they  tore  through  the  dense  ranks  of 
the  Austrians,  and  sabred  the  gunners  at  the  very  guns. 
Now  it  was  the  Polish  regiments — the  steel-clad  lancers — 
who  paraded  before  the  Tuileries,  in  memory  of  the  proud 
day  they  marched  through  Montebello  with  that  awful 
sentence  on  their  banners,  "  Venice .  exists  no  longer." 
Here  were  corps  of  infiantry,  intermingled  with  dragoons, 
pledging  each  other  as  they  passed  along ;  while  the 
names  of  Castiglione,  Bassano,  and  Roveredo  rang  through. 


THE   MARCH   TO  VBESAILLES.  257 

the  motley  crowd — the  very  children,  "  let  enfants  de 
troupe"  seemed  filled  with  the  warlike  enthusiasm  of 
their  fathers  ;  and  each  battalion,  as  it  moved  past,  stepped 
to  the  encouraging  shouts  of  thousands,  who  gazed  with 
envious  admiration  on  the  heroes  of  their  country. 

Never  did  the  pent-up  feelings  of  a  nation  find  vent  in 
such  a  universal  torrent  of  warlike  fervour  as  now  filled 
the  land.  The  clank  of  the  sabre  was  the  music  that 
charmed  the  popular  ear ;  and  the  "  coquette  vivandiere," 
as  she  tripped  along  the  gravel  avenues  of  the  Tuileries 
gardens,  was  as  much  an  object  of  admiration  as  the  most 
eplendidly-attired  beauty  of  the  "  Faubourg  St.  Germain." 
The  whole  tone  of  society  assumed  the  feature  of  the 
political  emergency.  The  theatres  only  represented  such 
pieces  as  bore  upon  the  ancient  renown  of  the  nation  in 
arms — its  victories  and  conquests.  The  artists  painted  no 
other  subjects ;  and  the  literature  of  the  period  appealed  to 
few  other  sympathies  than  are  found  in  the  rude  manners 
of  the  guard-room,  or  around  the  watch-fires  of  the  bivouac. 
Pegault  Lebrun  was  the  popular  author  of  the  day ;  and 
his  works  are  even  now  no  mean  indication  of  the  current 
tastes  and  opinions  of  the  period. 

The  predictions  too  hastily  made  by  the  English  journals 
that  the  influence  of  Bonaparte  in  France  could  not  survive 
the  rupture  of  that  peace  which  had  excited  so  much 
enthusiasm,  were  met  by  a  burst  of  national  unanimity  that 
soon  dispelled  the  delusive  hope.  Never  was  there  a  greater 
error  than  to  suppose  that  any  prospect  of  commercial  pros- 
perity, any  vista  of  wealth  and  riches,  could  compensate  to 
Frenchmen  for  the  intoxication  of  that  glory  in  which  they 
lived  as  in  an  orgie.  Too  many  banners  floated  from  the 
deep  aisles  of  the  "  Invalides  ; "  too  many  cannon,  the 
spoils  of  the  Italian  and  German  wars,  bristled  on  the 
rampart,  not  to  recall  the  memory  of  those  fete  days 
when  a  bulletin  threw  the  entire  city  into  a  frenzy  of  joy. 
The  Louvre  and  the  Luxembourg,  too,  were  filled  with 
the  treasures  of  conquered  states,  and  these  are  not 
the  guarantees  of  a  long  peace. 

Such,  in  brief,  was  the  state  of  Paris  when  the  declara- 
tion of  war  by  Great  Britain  once  ruore  called  the  nation 
to  arms.  Every  regiment  was  at  once  ordered  to  mase  np 
its  full  complement  to  the  war  standard,  and  the  furnaces 


258  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

were  employed  in  forging  shot  and  casting  cannon  through* 
out  the  length  and  breadth  of  France.  The  cavalry  corpg 
were  stationed  about  St.  Omer  and  Compiegne,  where  a 
rich  corn  country  supplied  forage  in  abundance.  Among 
the  rest  the  order  came  for  the  Ituitieme  to  march ;  one 
squadron  only  was  to  remain  behind,  chosen  to  execute 
le  service  des  depeches  from  St.  Cloud  and  Versailles  to 
Paris,  and  to  this  1  belonged. 

From  the  evening  of  Monsieur  Gisquet's  visit  I  had  never 
seen  or  heard  of  De  Beauvais,  and  at  last  the  hope  grew  in 
me  that  we  were  to  meet  no  more,  when  suddenly  the 
thought  flashed  across  my  mind — this  is  what  he  spoke  of; 
he  promised  I  should  be  sent  to  Versailles  !  Can  it  be 
chance,  or  is  this  his  doing  ?  These  were  difficult  questions 
to  solve,  and  gave  me  far  more  embarrassment  than  pleasure. 
My  fear  that  my  acquaintauce  with  him  was  in  the  end  tc 
involve  me  in  some  calamity,  was  a  kind  of  superstition 
which  I  could  not  combat,  and  I  resolved  at  once  to  see 
my  colonel,  with  whom,  happily,  I  was  now  on  the  best  of 
terms,  and  endeavour  to  exchange  with  some  other  officer, 
any  being  willing  to  accept  a  post  so  much  more  agreeable 
than  a  mere  country  quarter.  I  found  the  old  man  busied 
in  the  preparations  for  departure;  he  was  marking  out  the 
days  of  march  to  the  adjutant  as  I  entered. 

"  Well,  Burke,"  said  he,  "  you  are  the  fortunate  fellow 
this  time  ;  your  troop  remains  behind." 

"It  is  on  that  account,  sir,  I  am  come.  You'll  think  my 
request  a  strange  one,  but  if  it  be  not  against  rule,  would 
you  permit  me  to  exchange  my  destination  with  another 
officer?" 

"  What— eh  ?  the  boy's  mad  !  Why,  it's  to  Versailles  you 
are  going." 

"  I  know,  sir ;  but,  somehow,  I'd  rather  remain  with  the 
regiment." 

"  This  is  very  strange — I  don't  understand  it,"  said  he, 
leisurely  ;  "come  here."  With  that  he  drew  me  into  the 
recess  of  a  window  where  we  could  talk  unheard  by  others. 
"  Burke,"  continued  he,  "  I'm  not  the  man  to  question 
my  young  fellows  about  secrets  which  they'd  rather  keep 
for  themselves ;  but  there  is  something  here  more  than 
common.  Do  you  know  that  in  the  order  it  was  your 
gquadron  was  specially  marked  out,  ail  the  officers' 


THE    MAKCH    TO    VERSAILLES.  259 

names  were  mentioned,  and  yours   particularly,  for  Ver- 
sailles ?  " 

A  deadly  paleness  and  a  cold  chill  spread  over  my  face ; 
1  tried  to  say  some  commonplace,  but  I  could  not  utter 
more  than  the  words,  "  I  feared  it."  Happily  for  me  he 
did  not  hear  them,  but,  taking  my  hand  kindly,  said, — 

"  I  see  it  all ;  some  youthful  folly  or  other  would  make 
you  better  pleased  to  leave  Paris  just  now.  Never  mind 
stormy  times  are  coming,  you'll  have  enough  on  your  handa 
presently ;  and  let  me  advise  you  to  make  the  most  of  your 
time  at  Versailles,  for,  if  I'm  not  mistaken,  you'll  see  much 
more  of  camps  than  courts  for  some  time  to  come." 

The  rest  of  that  day  left  me  but  little  time  for  reflection ; 
but  in  such  short  intervals  as  I  could  snatch  from  duty, 
one  thought  ever  rose  to  my  mind :  Can  this  be  De 
Beauvais's  doing  ?  Has  he  had  any  share  in  my  present 
destination,  and  with  what  object?  "Well/'  said  I  to 
myself  at  last,  "  these  are  but  foolish  fears  after  all,  and 
may  be  causeless  ones.  If  I  but  follow  the  straight  path 
of  my  duty,  what  need  I  care  if  the  whole  world  intrigued 
and  plotted  around  me  ?  And,  after  all,  was  it  not  most 
likely  that  we  should  never  see  each  other  again  ?  " 

The  day  was  just  breaking  when  we  left  Paris  ;  the  bright 
beams  of  a  May  morning's  sun  were  flickering  and  playing 
in  the  rippling  river  that  ran  coid  and  grey  beneath ;  the 
tall  towers  of  the  Tuileries  threw  their  long  shadows  across 
the  Place  Carousel,  where  a  dragoon  regiment  was  en- 
camped. They  were  already  astir,  and  some  of  the  men 
were  standing  around  the  fountains  with  their  horses,  and 
others  were  looking  after  the  saddles  and  accoutrements  in 
preparation  for  the  march ;  a  half-expiring  fire  here  and 
there  marked  where  some  little  party  had  been  sitting 
together,  while  the  jars  and  flasks  about  bespoke  a  merry 
evening.  A  trumpeter  sat,  statue-like,  on  his  white  horse, 
his  trumpet  resting  on  his  knee,  surveying  the  whole  scene, 
and  as  if  deferring  to  the  last  the  wakeful  summons  that 
should  rouse  some  of  his  yet  sleeping  comrades.  I  could 
see  thus  much  as  we  passed.  Our  road  led  along  the  quay 
towards  the  Place  Louis  XV.,  where  an  infantry  battalion 
with  four  guns  was  picketed.  The  men  were  breakfasting 
and  preparing  for  the  route.  They  were  part  of  theyranrf? 
under  orders  for  Boulogne. 


260  TOM   BUBKE    OF    "  OURS." 

We  soon  traversed  the  Champs  Elysees,  and  entered  the 
open  country.  For  some  miles  it  was  merely  a  succession 
of  large  corn-fields,  and  here  and  there  a  small  vineyard, 
that  met  the  eye  on  either  side ;  but  as  we  proceeded 
farther  we  were  girt  in  by  rich  orchards  in  full  blossom, 
the  whole  air  loaded  with  perfume.  Neat  cottages  peeped 
from  the  woody  enclosures,  the  trellised  walls  covered  with 
honeysuckles  and  wild  roses  ;  the  surface,  too,  was  undulat- 
ing, and  waved  in  every  imaginable  direction,  offering 
every  variety  of  hill  and  valley,  precipice  and  plain,  in  even 
the  smallest  space.  As  yet  no  peasant  was  stirring,  no 
smoke  curled  from  a  single  chimney,  and  all,  save  the  song 
of  the  lark,  was  silent.  It  was  a  peaceful  scene,  and  a 
strong  contrast  to  that  we  left  behind  us  ;  and  whatever 
ambitious  yearnings  filled  my  heart  as  I  looked  upon  the 
armed  ranks  of  the  mailed  cuirassiers,  I  felt  a  deeper  sense 
of  happiness  as  I  strayed  along  those  green  alleys  through 
which  the  sun  came  slanting  sparingly,  and  where  the 
leaves  only  stirred  as  their  winged  tenants  moved  among 
them. 

We  travelled  for  some  hours  through  the  dark  paths  of 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  again  emerged  in  a  country  wild 
and  verdant  as  before.  And  thus  passed  our  day,  till  the 
setting  sun  rested  on  the  tali  roof  of  the  great  Palace,  and 
lit  up  every  window  in  golden  splendour  as  we  entered  the 
town  of  Versailles. 

I  could  scarce  avoid  halting  as  I  rode  up  the  wide 
terrace  of  the  Palace.  Xever  had  I  felt  before  the  over- 
coming sense  of  grandeur  which  architecture  can  be- 
stow. The  great  facade,  in  its  chaste  and  simple  beauty, 
stretched  away  to  a  distance,  where  dark  lime-trees  closed 
the  background,  their  tall  summits  only  peeping  above  the 
lofty  terrace  in  which  the  chateau  stands.  On  that  terrace, 
too,  were  walking  a  crowd  of  persons  of  the  Court,  the 
fall-dress  costume  showing  that  they  had  but  left  the 
salons  to  enjoy  the  cool  and  refreshing  air  of  the  evening. 
I  saw  some  turn  and  look  after  our  travel-stained  and 
dusty  party,  and  confess  I  felt  a  half  sense  of  shame  at  our 
wayworn  appearance.  I  had  not  long  to  suffer  such  mor- 
wfication,  for  ere  we  marched  more  than  a  few  minutes,  we 
were  joined  by  a  Marechal  de  Logis,  who  accompanied  us 
to  our  quarters- —one  of  the  buildings  adjoining  the  Palace 


THE    MARCH    TO   VERSAILLES.  261 

— where  we  found  everything  in  readiness  for  our  arrival ; 
and  there  I,  to  my  surprise,  discovered  that  a  most  sump- 
tuous supper  awaited  me — a  politeness  I  was  utterly  a 
stranger  to,  not  being  over-cognizant  of  the  etiquette  and 
privilege  which  awaitthe  officer  on  guard  at  a  royal  palace. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

THE    PARK   OF    VERSAILLES. 

THE  instructions  delivered  to  me  soon  after  my  arrival  in 
Versailles  convinced  me  that  the  transmission  of  de- 
spatches was  not  the  service  we  were  called  on  to  discharge, 
but  merely  a  pretence  to  blind  others  as  to  our  presence  ; 
the  real  duty  being  the  establishment  of  a  cordon  around 
the  royal  Palace,  permitting  no  one  to  enter  or  pass  within 
the  precincts  who  was  not  provided  with  a  regular  leave, 
and  empowering  us  to  detain  all  suspected  individuals,  and 
forward  thorn  for  examination  to  St.  Cloud. 

To  avoid  all  suspicion  as  to  the  true  object,  the  men 
were  ordered  to  pass  from  place  to  place,  as  if  with  des- 
patches, many  being  stationed  in  different  parts  of  the 
park  ;  my  duty  requiring  me  to  be  continually  on  the  alert 
to  visit  these  pickets,  and  make  a  daily  report  to  the  Pre- 
fet  de  Police  at  Paris. 

What  the  nature  of  the  suspicion,  or  from  what  quarter 
Monsieur  Savary  anticipated  danger,  I  could  not  even 
guess  ;  and,  though  I  well  knew  that  his  sources  of  infor- 
mation were  unquestionable,  I  began  at  last  to  think  that 
the  whole  was  merely  some  plot  devised  by  the  police 
themselves,  to  display  uncommon  vigilance  and  enhance 
their  own  importance.  This  conviction  grew  stronger  as 
day  by  day  I  remarked  that  no  person  more  than  ordinary 
had  even  approached  near  the  town  of  Versailles  itself^ 


262  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

while  the  absurd  exactitude  of  inquiry  as  to  every  minute 
thing  that  occurred  went  on  just  as  before. 

While  my  life  passed  on  in  this  monotonous  fashion,  the 
little  Court  of  Madame  Bonaparte  seemed  to  enjoy  all  its 
accustomed  pleasure.  The  actors  of  the  Frar^ais  came 
down  expressly  from  Paris,  and  gave  nightly  representa- 
tions in  the  Palace ;  fourgons  continued  to  arrive  from  the 
capital  with  all  the  luxuries  for  the  table  ;  new  guests 
poured  in  day  after  day,  and  the  lighted-up  saloons,  and 
the  sounds  of  music  that  filled  the  Court,  told  each  evening 
that  whatever  fear  prevailed  without,  the  minds  of  those 
within  the  Palace  had  little  to  cause  depression. 

It  was  not  without  a  feeling  of  wounded  pride  I  saw 
myself  omitted  in  all  the  invitations  ;  for,  although  my 
rank  was  not  sufficient  of  itself  to  lead  me  to  expect  such 
an  attention,  my  position  as  the  officer  on  guard  would 
have  fully  warranted  the  politeness,  had  I  not  even  already 
received  marks  of  civility  while  in  Paris.  From  time  to 
time,  as  I  passed  through  the  park,  I  came  upon  some  of 
the  Court  party;  and  it  was  with  a  sense  of  painful 
humiliation  I  observed  that  Madame  Bonaparte  had  com- 
pletely forgotten  me,  while  from  one  whose  indifference 
was  more  galling  still,  I  did  not  even  obtain  a  look  in 
passing.  How  had  I  forfeited  the  esteem  which  volun- 
tarily they  had  bestowed  on  me — the  good  opinion  which 
had  raised  me  from  an  humble  cadet  of  the  Polytechnique 
to  a  commission  in  one  of  the  first  corps  in  the  service  ? 
Under  what  evil  influence  was  I  placed  ?  Such  were  the 
questions  that  forced  themselves  on  me  night  and  day  ; 
that  haunted  my  path  as  I  walked,  and  my  dreams  at 
night.  As  the  impression  grew  on  me,  I  imagined  that 
every  one  I  met  regarded  me  with  a  look  of  distance  and 
distrust ;  that  each  saw  in  me  one  who  had  forfeited  his 
fair  name  by  some  low  or  unworthy  action,  till  at  last  I 
actually  avoided  the  walks  where  I  was  likely  to  encounter 
the  visitors  of  the  Palace,  and  shunned  the  very  approach 
of  a  stranger,  like  a  guilty  thing.  All  the  brilliant  pros- 
pects of  my  soldier's  life,  that  a  few  days  back  shone  out 
before  me,  were  now  changed  into  a  dreamy  despondence. 
The  service  I  was  employed  on — so  different  from  what  I 
deemed  became  a  chivalrous  career — was  repugnant  to  all 
Bay  feelings  ;  and  when  the  time  for  visiting  my  pickets 


THE   PARK    OF   VERSAILLES.  263 

came,  I  shrank  with  shame  from  a  duty  that  suited  rather 
the  spy  of  the  police  than  the  officer  of  hussars. 

Every  day  my  depression  increased.  My  isolation,  donbly 
painful  from  the  gaiety  and  life  around  me,  seemed  to  mark 
me  out  as  one  unfit  to  know,  and  lessened  me  in  my  own 
esteem  ;  and  as  I  walked  the  long,  dark  alleys  of  the  park, 
a  weighty  load  upon  my  heart,  I  envied  the  meanest 
soldier  of  my  troop,  and  would  willingly  have  changed  his 
fortune  with  my  own.  It  was  a  relief  to  me  even  when 
night  came — the  shutters  of  my  little  room  closed,  my 
lamp  lighted — to  think  that  there  at  least  I  was  free  from 
the  dark  glances  and  sidelong  looks  of  all  I  met ;  that  I 
was  alone  with  my  own  sorrow, — no  contemptuous  eye  to 
pierce  my  sad  heart,  and  see  in  my  gloom  a  self-convicted 
criminal.  Had  I  one,  but  one  friend  to  advise  with,  to 
pour  out  all  my  sufferings  before  him,  and  say,  "  Tell  me, 
how  shall  I  act  ?  Am  I  to  go  on  enduring?  or  where  shall 
I — where  can  I  vindicate  my  fame  ?  " 

With  such  sad  thoughts  for  company,  I  sat  one  evening 
alone  ;  my  mind  now  recurring  to  the  early  scenes  of  my 
childhood,  and  to  that  harsh  teaching  which  even  in  in- 
fancy had  marked  me  for  suffering  ;  now  straying  onward 
to  a  vision  of  the  future  I  used  to  paint  so  brightly  to 
myself,  when  a  gentle  tap  at  the  door  aroused  me. 

"  Come  in,"  said  I,  carelessly,  supposing  it  a  sergeant  of 
my  troop.  The  door  slowly  opened,  and  a  figure  wrapped 
in  a  loose  horseman's  cloak  entered. 

"  Ah  !  lieutenant,  don't  you  know  me  ?  "  said  a  voice, 
whose  peculiar  tone  struck  me  as  well  known— -"  the 
Abbe"  d'Ervan,  at  your  service." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  I,  starting  with  surprise,  not  less  at  the 
unexpected  visitor  himself  than  at  the  manner  of  his 
appearance.  "  Why,  abbe,  you  must  have  passed  the 
sentinel." 

"And  so  I  did,  my  dear  boy,"  replied  he,  as  he  folded 
up  his  cloak  leisurely  on  one  chair,  and  seated  himself  on 
another  opposite  me.  "  Nothing  wonderful  in  that,  I 
suppose  ?  " 

"  But  the  countersign — they  surely  asked  you  for  it  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  they  did,  and  I  gave  it :  '  Vincennes,'  an 
easy  word  enough.  But  come,  come,  you  are  not  going  to 
play  the  police  with  me.  I  have  taken  you  in  on  my  way 


2G4  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

back  to  St  Cloud,  where  I  am  stopping  just  now,  to  pay 
you  a  little  visit  and  talk  over  the  news." 

"  Pardon  me  once  more,  my  uear  abbe,  but  a  young 
soldier  may  seem  over- punctilious.  Have  you  the  privi- 
lege to  pass  through  the  royal  park  after  nightfall  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  have  shown  you  that  already,  my  most  rigid 
inquisitor,  otherwise  I  should  not  have  known  the  pass- 
word. Give  me  your  report  for  to-morrow.  Ah,  here  it 
is.  What's  the  hour  now  ?  A  quarter  to  eleven.  This 
will  save  you  some  trouble."  So  saying,  he  took  a  pen  and 
wrote  in  a  large  free  hand,  "  The  Abbe  d'Ervaii  from  the 
Chateau  d'Ancre  to  St.  Cloud."  "  Monsieur  Savary  will  ask 
you  no  further  questions,  trust  me.  And  now,  if  you  have 
got  over  all  your  fears  and  disquietudes,  may  I  take  the 
liberty  to  remind  you  that  the  chateau  is  ten  leagues  off — • 
that  I  dined  at  three,  and  have  eaten  nothing  since.  Abbes, 
you  are  aware,  are  privileged  gastronomists ;  and  the  family 
of  D'Ervan  have  a  most  unhappy  addiction  to  good  things. 
A  poulet,  however,  and  a  flask  of  Chablis  will  do  for  the 
present ;  for  I  long  to  talk  with  you." 

While  I  made  my  humble  preparations  to  entertain  him, 
he  rambled  on  in  his  usual  free  and  pleasant  manner — 
that  mixture  of  smartness  and  carelessness  which  seemed 
equally  diffused  through  all  he  said,  imparting  a  sufficiency 
to  awake,  without  containing  anything  to  engage  too  deeply 
the  listener's  attention. 

"  Come,  come,  lieutenant,  make  no  apology  for  the  fare : 
the  pate  is  excellent ;  and  as  for  the  Burgundy,  it  is  easy 
enough  to  see  your  Chambertin  comes  from  the  Consul's 
cellar.  And  so  you  tell  me  that  you  find  this  place  dull, 
which  I  own  I'm  surprised  at.  These  little  soirees  are 
usually  amusing ;  but  perhaps  at  your  age  the  dazzling 
gaiety  of  the  ball-room  is  more  attractive." 

*'  In  truth,  abbe,  the  distinction  would  be  a  matter  of 
some  difficulty  to  me,  1  know  so  little  of  either.  And 
indeed,  Madame  la  Consulesse  i«  not  over  likely  to  en- 
lighten my  ignorance :  I  have  never  been  asked  to  the 
Palace." 

"  Ton  are  jesting,  surely  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  in  earnest,  I  assure  yon.  This  is  ray  third 
week  of  being  quartered  here ;  and  not  only  have  I 
not  been  invited,  but,  stranger  still,  Madame  Bonaparte 


THE   PARK   OP   VERSAILLES.  265 

passed  and  never  noticed  me;  and  another,  one  of  her 
suite,  did  the  same :  so  you  see  there  can  be  no  accident 
in  the  matter." 

"  How  strange ! "  said  the  abbe,  leaning  his  head  on 
his  hand ;  and  then,  as  if  speaking  to  himself,  muttered, 
"  But  so  it  is,  there  is  no  such  tyrant  as  your  parvenu, 
The  caprice  of  sudden  elevation  knows  no  guidance.  And 
you  can't  even  guess  at  the  cause  of  all  this  ?  " 

"  INiot  with  all  my  ingenuity  could  1  invent  anything 
like  a  reason." 

"  Well,  well,  we  may  find  it  out  yet.  These  are  strange 
times  altogether,  lieutenant.  Men's  minds  are  more  unset- 
tled than  ever  they  were.  The  Jacobin  begius  to  feel  he  has 
been  labouring  for  nothing :  that  all  he  deems  the  rubbish  of 
a  monarchy  has  been  removed,  only  to  build  up  a  greater 
oppression.  The  soldier  sees  his  conquests  have  only  made 
the  fortune  of  one  man  in  the  army,  and  that  one  not  over- 
mindful  of  his  old  companions.  Many  begin  to  think — and 
they  may  have  some  cause  for  the  notion — that  the  old 
family  of  France  knew  the  interests  of  the  nation  best 
after  all ;  and  certain  it  is,  they  were  never  ungrateful  to 
those  who  served  them.  Your  countrymen  had  always 
their  share  of  favour  shown  them.  You  do  surprise  me 
when  you  say  you've  never  been  invited." 

"  So  it  is  though ;  and,  worse  still,  there  is  evidently 
some  secret  reason.  Men  look  at  me  as  if  I  had  done 
something  to  stain  my  character  and  name." 

"  No,  no,  you  mistake  all  that.  This  new  and  patch- 
work Court  does  but  try  to  imitate  the  tone  of  its  leader. 
When  did  you  see  De  Beauvais  ?  " 

"  Not  for  some  months  past.     Is  he  in  Paris  ?  " 

"  No.  The  poor  fellow  has  been  ill.  He's  in  Normandy 
just  now,  but  I  expect  him  back  soon.  There  is  a  youth 
who  might  be  anything  he  pleased :  his  family,  one  of  the 
oldest  in  the  south  ;  his  means  abundant ;  his  own  ability 
first-rate ;  but  his  principles  are  of  that  inflexible  material 
that  won't  bend  for  mere  convenience'  sake.  He  does 
not  like — he  does  not  approve  of  the  present  govern- 
ment of  France." 

"  What  would  he  have,  then  ?  Does  not  Bonaparte 
satisfy  the  ambition  of  a  Frenchman?  Does  he  wish  a 
name  than  that  at  the  head  of  his  nation  P  " 


266  TOM   BTJRKE    OF    "  OURS." 

"  That's  a  brilliant  lamp  before  us  ;  but  see  there,"  cried 
the  abbe,  as  he  flung  open  the  shutter,  and  pointed  to  the 
bright  moon  that  shone  pale  and  beautiful  in  the  clear 
sky — "  see  there !  Is  there  not  something  granuer  far  in 
the  glorious  radiance  of  the  orb  that  has  thrown  its  lustre 
on  the  world  for  ages  ?  Is  it  not  a  glorious  thought  to 
revel  in  the  times  long  past,  and  think  of  those,  our  fathers, 
who  lived  beneath  the  same  bright  beams,  and  drank  in 
the  same  golden  waters  ?  Men  are  too  prone  to  measure 
themselves  with  one  of  yesterday.  They  find  it  hard  to 
wonder  at  the  statue  of  him  whom  they  have  themselves 
placed  on  the  pedestal.  Feudalism,  too,  seems  a  very  part 
of  our  nature." 

*'  These  are  thoughts  I've  never  known,  nor  would  I 
now  wish  to  learn  them,"  said  I ;  "  and  as  for  me,  a  hero 
needs  no  ancestry  to  make  him  glorious  in  my  eyes." 

"  All  true,"  said  the  abbe,  sipping  his  glass,  and  smiling 
kindly  on  me  ;  "  a  young  heart  should  feel  as  yours  doe£  ; 
and  time  was  when  such  feelings  had  made  the  fortune  of 
their  owner ;  but  even  now  the  world  is  changed  about  us. 
The  gendarmes  have  the  mission  that  once  belonged  to 
the  steel-clad  cuirassiers,  and,  in  return,  the  hussar  is 
little  better  than  a  mouchard." 

The  blood  mounted  to  my  face  and  temples  and  throbbed 
in  every  vein  and  artery  of  my  forehead,  as  I  heard  this 
contemptuous  epithet  applied  to  the  corps  I  belonged  to — 
a  sarcasm  that  told  not  less  poignantly  on  me,  that  I  felt 
how  applicable  it  was  to  my  present  position. 

He  saw  how  deeply  mortified  the  word  had  made  me ; 
and,  putting  his  hand  in  mine,  with  a  voice  of  winning 
softness  he  added,  "  One  who  would  be  a  friend  must  risk 
a  little  now  and  then ;  as  he  who  passes  over  a  plank 
before  his  neighbour  will  sometimes  spring  to  try  its  sound- 
ness, even  at  the  hazard  of  a  fall.  Don't  mistake  me, 
lieutenant,  you  have  a  higher  mission  than  this.  France 
is  on  the  eve  of  a  mighty  change.  Let  us  hope  it  may  be 
a  happy  one.  And  now  it's  getting  late — far  later,  in- 
deed, than  is  my  wont  to  be  abroad — and  so  I'll  wish  you 
good  night.  I'll  find  a  bed  in  the  village.  And  since  I 
have  made  you  out  here,  we  must  meet  often." 

There  was  something — I  could  not  define  what  exactly 
—that  alarmed  me  in  the  conversation  of  the  abbe;  and 


THE   PARK   OF   VERSAILLES.  267 

lonely  and  solitary  as  I  was,  it  was  with  a  sense  of  relief 
I  saw  him  take  his  departure. 

The  pupil  of  a  school  where  the  Consul's  name  was 
never  nientioned  without  enthusiasm  and  admiration,  I 
found  it  strange  that  any  one  should  venture  to  form  any 
other  estimate  of  him  than  I  was  used  to  hear ;  and  yet  in 
all  he  said  I  could  but  faintly  trace  out  anything  to  take 
amiss.  That  men  of  his  cloth  should  feel  warmly  towards 
the  exiled  family  was  natural  enough.  They  could  have 
but  few  sympathies  with  the  soldier's  calling,  and,  of 
course,  felt  themselves  in  a  very  different  position  now 
from  what  they  once  had  occupied.  The  restoration  of 
Catholicism  was,  I  well  knew,  rather  a  political  and  social 
than  a  religious  movement;  and  Bonaparte  never  had 
the  slightest  intention  of  replacing  the  Church  in  its 
former  position  of  ascendency,  but  rather  of  using  it  as  a 
state  engine,  and  giving  a  stability  to  the  new  order  of 
things,  which  could  only  be  done  on  the  foundation  of 
prejudices  and  convictions  old  as  the  nation  itself. 

In  this  way  the  rising  generation  looked  on  the  priests ; 
and  in  this  way  had  I  been  taught  to  regard  the  whole 
class  of  religionists.  It  was,  then,  nothing  wonderful  if 
ambitious  men  among  them,  of  whom  D'Ervan  might  be 
one,  felt  somewhat  indignant  at  the  post  assigned  them, 
and  did  not  espouse  with  warmth  the  cause  of  one  who 
merely  condescended  to  make  them  the  tool  of  his  inten- 
tions. "  Yes,  yes,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  I  have  defined  my 
friend  the  abbe ;  and  though  not  a  very  dangerous  cha- 
racter after  all,  it's  just  as  well  I  should  be  on  my  guard. 
His  being  in  possession  of  the  password,  and  his  ven- 
turing to  write  his  name  in  the  police  report,  are  evi- 
dences that  he  enjoys  the  favour  of  the  Prefet  de  Police. 
Well,  well,  I'm  sure  I  am  heartily  tired  of  such  reflections. 
Would  that  the  campaign  were  once  begun!  The  roll  of 
a  platoon  and  the  deep  thunder  of  an  artillery  fire  would 
soon  drown  the  small  whispering  of  such  miserable  plot- 
tings  from  one's  head." 

About  a  week  passed  over  after  this  visit,  in  which,  at 
first,  I  was  rather  better  pleased  that  the  abbe  did  not- 
come  again;  but  as  my  solitude  began  to  press  more 
heavily  on  me,  I  felt  a  kind  of  regret  at  not  seeing  him. 
His  lively  tone  in  conversation,  though  spiced  ith  that 


268  TOM  BUEKB  OF   "  OUBS." 

moqueur  spirit  which  Frenchmen  nearly  all  assume, 
amused  me  greatly ;  and  little  versed  as  I  was  in  the 
world  or  in  its  ways,  T  saw  that  he  knew  it  thoroughly. 
Such  were  my  thoughts  as  I  returned  home  one  evening 
along  the  broad  alley  of  the  park,  when  1  heard  a  foot 
coming  rapidly  up  behind  me. 

"  I  say,  lieutenant,"  cried  the  voice  of  the  very  man  I 
was  thinking  of,  "  your  people  are  terribly  on  the  alert 
to-night ;  they  refused  to  let  me  pass,  until  I  told  them  I 
was  coming  to  you ;  and  here  are  two  worthy  fellows  who 
won't  take  my  word  for  it  without  your  corroboration." 

I  then  perceived  that  two  dismounted  dragoons  fol- 
lowed him  at  the  distance  of  a  few  paces. 

"  All  right,  men,"  said  I,  passing  my  arm  beneath 
the  abbe's,  and  turning  again  towards  my  quarters. 
"  Wouldn't  they  take  the  password,  then  ? "  continued  I, 
as  we  walked  on. 

"  Ma  foi,  I  don't  know,  for  I  haven't  got  it." 

"  How— not  got  it  ?  " 

"  Don't  look  so  terribly  frightened,  my  dear  boy! 
You'll  not  be  put  under  arrest  or  any  such  mishap  on 
my  account;  but  the  truth  is,  I've  been  away  some  days 
from  home,  and  have  not  had  time  to  write  to  the  minister 
for  the  order ;  and  as  I  wanted  to  go  over  to  St.  Cloud 
this  evening,  and  as  this  route  saves  me  at  least  a  league's 
walking,  of  course  I  availed  myself  of  the  privilege  of 
our  friendship  both  to  rest  my  legs  and  have  a  little  chat 
with  you.  Well,  and  how  do  you  get  on  here  now  ?  I 
hope  the  chateau  is  more  hospitable  to  you — eh  ? — not 
so  ? — that  is  most  strange.  But  I  have  brought  you  a 
few  books  which  may  serve  to  while  away  the  hours ;  and 
as  a  recompense,  I'll  ask  you  for  a  supper." 

By  this  time  we  were  at  the  door  of  my  quarters,  where, 
having  ordered  up  the  best  repast  my  cuisine  afforded,  we 
sat  down  to  await  its  appearance.  Unlike  the  former 
evening,  the  abbe  now  seemed  low  and  depressed — spoke 
little,  and  then  moodily,  over  the  unsettled  state  of  men's 
minds,  and  the  rumours  that  pervaded  Paris  of  some 
momentous  change — men  knew  not  what — and  thus  by  a 
stray  phrase,  a  chance  word,  or  an  unfinished  sentence, 
gave  me  to  think  that  the  hour  was  approaching  for  some 
great  political  convulsion. 


THE   PARK   OP  VERSAILLES. 

"  But,  lieutenant,  you  never  told  me  by  what  accident 
you  came  first  amongst  us.  Let  me  hear  your  story.  The 
feeling  with  which  I  ask  is  not  the  fruit  of  an  impertinent 
curiosity.  I  wish  sincerely  to  know  more  about  one  in 
whose  fortunes  I  have  taken  a  deep  interest.  De  Beau- 
vais  told  me  the  little  anecdote  which  made  you  first 
acquainted  ;  and  though  the  event  promised  but  little  of 
future  friendship,  the  circumstances  have  turned  out  dif- 
ferently. You  have  not  one  who  speaks  and  thinks  of 
you  more  highly  than  he  does.  I  left  him  this  morning 
not  many  miles  from  this.  And  now  that  I  think  of  it, 
ho  gave  me  a  letter  for  you — here  it  is."  So  saying,  he 
threw  it  carelessly  on  the  chimney-piece,  and  continued : 
"  I  must  tell  you  a  secret  of  poor  De  Beauvais,  for  I  know 
you  feel  interested  in  him.  You  must  know,  then,  that 
our  friend  is  desperately  in  love  with  a  very  beautiful 
cousin  of  his  own,  one  of  the  suite  of  Madame  Bonaparte. 
She's  a  well-known  Court  beauty;  and  if  you  had  seen 
more  of  the  Tuileries,  you'd  have  heard  of  La  Rose  de 
Provence." 

"  1  have  seen  her,  I  think,"  muttered  I,  as  my  cheek 
grew  crimson,  and  my  lips  trembled. 

"  Well,"  resumed  the  abbe,  and  without  noticing  my 
embarrassment,  "  this  love  aliair,  which  I  believe  began 
Jong  ago,  and  might  have  ended  in  marriage — for  there  is 
no  disparity  of  rank,  no  want  of  wealth,  nor  any  other 
difficulty  to  prevent  it — has  been  interrupted  by  General 
Bonaparte,  because,  and  for  no  other  reason,  mark  ye, 
than  that  De  Beauvais's  family  were  Bourbonists.  His 
father  was  a  captain  of  the  Garde  du  Corps,  and  his 
grandfather  a  grand  falconer,  or  something  or  other,  with 
Louis  XV.  Now,  the  young  marquis  was  well  enough 
inclined  to  go  with  the  current  of  events  in  France.  The 
order  of  things  once  changed,  he  deemed  it  best  to  follow 
the  crowd,  and  frequented  the  Tuileries  like  many  others 
of  his  own  politics — I  believe  you  met  him  there — till 
one  morning  lately  he  resolved  to  try  his  fortune  where 
the  game  was  his  all.  And  he  waited  on  Madame  Bona- 
parte to  ask  her  consent  to  his  marriage  with  his  cousin — 
for  I  must  tell  you  that  she  is  an  orphan,  and  in  all  such 
cases  the  parental  right  is  exercised  by  the  head  of  the 
Government.  Madame  referred  him  coldly  to  the  General, 


270  TOM   BtTRffE    OP    "  OURS.1* 

who  received  him  more  coldly  still,  and  instead  of  reply- 
ing to  his  suit,  as  he  expected,  broke  out  into  invectives 
against  De  Beauvais's  friends — called  them  cJiouans  and 
assassins — said  they  never  ceased  to  plot  against  his  life 
with  his  most  inveterate  enemies,  the  English — that  the 
exiled  family  maintained  a  corps  of  spies  in  Paris,  of 
whom  he  half  suspected  him  to  be  one ;  and,  in  a  word, 
contrived  to  heap  more  insult  on  him  in  one  quarter  of 
an  hour  than,  as  he  himself  said,  his  whole  family  had 
endured  from  the  days  of  St.  Louis  to  the  present.  De 
Beauvais  from  that  hour  absented  himself  from  the 
Tuileries,  and  indeed  almost  entirely  from  Paris — now 
living  with  his  friends  in  Normandy,  now  spending  a  few 
weeks  in  the  south ;  but  at  last  he  has  determined  on  his 
course,  and  means  to  leave  France  for  ever.  I  believe  the 
object  of  his  coming  here  at  this  moment  is  to  see  his 
cousin  for  the  last  time.  Perhaps  his  note  to  you  has 
some  reference  to  it." 

I  took  the  letter  with  a  trembling  hand — a  fear  of  some- 
thing undefined  was  over  me— and,  tearing  it  open,  read 
as  follows:  — 

"  DEAR  FRIEND, — The  Abb6  d'Ervan  will  deliver  this 
into  your  hands,  and,  if  you  wish  it,  explain  the  reason 
of  the  request  it  contains,  which  is  simply  that  you  will 
afford  me  the  shelter  of  your  quarters  for  one  day  in  the 
park  at  Versailles.  I  know  the  difficulty  of  your  position  ; 
and  if  any  other  means  under  heaven  presented  itself  1 
should  not  ask  the  favour,  which,  although  1  pledge  my 
honour  not  to  abuse,  I  shall  value  as  the  dearest  a  whole 
life's  gratitude  can  repay.  My  heart  tells  me  that  you  will 
not  refuse  the  last  wish  of  one  you  will  never  see  after 
this  meeting.  I  shall  wait  at  the  gate  below  the  Trianon 
at  eleven  o'clock  on  Friday  night,  when  you  can  pass  ma 
through  the  sentries. 

"Yours,  ever  and  devoted, 

"  HENRI  DE  BEAUVAIS." 

**The  thing  is  impossible,"  said  I,  laying  down  the 
letter  on  the  table,  and  staring  over  at  D'Ervan. 


THE   PARK   OP   VERSAILLES.  271 

"No  more  so,  dear  friend,  than  what  you  have  done  for 
me  this  evening,  and  which,  I  need  not  tell  you,  involves 
no  risk  whatever.  Here  am  I  now,  without  pass  or  coun- 
tersign, your  guest — the  partaker  of  as  good  a  supper  and 
as  excellent  a  glass  of  wine  as  man  need  care  for.  In  an 
hour  hence — say  two  at  most — I  shall  be  on  my  way  over 
to  St.  Cloud.  Who  is,  then,  I  ask  you,  to  be  the  wiser  H 
You'll  not  put  me  down  in  the  night  report — don't  start 
— I  repeat  it — you  can't  do  it ;  for  I  had  no  countersign 
to  pass  through  :  and  as  the  Consul  reads  these  sheets 
every  morning,  you  are  not  going  to  lose  your  commis- 
sion for  the  sake  of  an  absurd  punctilio  that  nobody  on 
earth  will  thank  you  for.  Come,  come,  my  worthy  lieu- 
tenant, these  same  excellent  scruples  of  yours  savour  far 
more  of  the  scholar  at  the  rigid  old  Polytechnique  than 
the  young  officer  of  hussars.  Help  me  to  that  ortolan 
there,  and  pass  the  bottle.  There — a  bumper  of  such  a  vin- 
tage is  a  good  reward  for  so  much  talking." 

While  the  abbe  continued  to  exert  himself  by  many  a 
flippant  remark,  and  many  a  smart  anecdote,  to  dissipate 
the  gloom  that  now  fell  over  my  spirits,  I  grew  only  more 
and  more  silent.  The  one  false  step  I  had  taken  already 
presented  itself  before  me  as  the  precedent  for  further 
wrong,  and  I  knew  not  what  course  to  take,  nor  how  to 
escape  from  my  dilemma. 

"  1  say,  lieutenant,"  said  D'Ervan,  after  a  pause  of  some 
minutes,  during  which  he  had  never  ceased  to  regard  me 
with  a  fixed,  steady  start,  "  you  are  about  as  unlike  the 
usual  character  of  your  countrymen  as  one  can  well  con- 
ceive. 

"  How  so  ?  "  said  I,  half  smiling  at  the  remark. 

"  All  the  Irishmen  I  have  ever  seen,"  replied  he — "  and 
I  have  known  some  scores  of  them — were  bold,  dashing, 
intrepid  fellows,  that  cared  nothing  for  an  enterprise  if 
danger  had  no  share  in  it — who  loved  a  difficulty  as  other 
men  love  safety — who  had  an  instinct  for  where  their  own 
reckless  courage  would  give  them  an  advantage  over  all 
others,  and  took  life  easily,  under  the  conviction  that  every 
day  could  present  the  circumstance  where  a  ready  wit  and 
a  stout  heart  could  make  the  way  to  fortune.  Such  were 
the  Irish  I  knew  in  the  brigade ;  and  though  not  a  man 
of  the  number  had  ever  seen  what  they  called  the  Green 


272  TOM   BURKE   OP    "  OUIt8.W 

Island,  they  were  as  unlike  the  English,  or  French,  or 
Germans,  or  any  other  people,  as — as  the  old  Conrt  of 
Louis  XIV.  was  unlike  the  guard-room  style  of  reception 
that  goes  on  now-a-days  yonder." 

"  What  you  say  may  be  just,"  said  I  coolly  ;  "  and  if  I 
seem  to  have  few  features  of  that  headlong  spirit  which  is 
the  gift  of  my  nation,  the  circumstances  of  my  boyhood 
could  well  explain,  perhaps  excuse  them.  From  my 
earliest  years  I  have  had  to  struggle  against  ills  that  many 
men,  in  a  long  lifetime,  do  not  meet  with.  If  suspicion 
and  distrust  have  crept  or  stolen  into  my  heart,  it  is  from 
watching  the  conduct  of  those  I  deemed  high-spirited  and 
honourable,  and  seeing  them  weak,  and  vacillating,  and 
faithless.  And  lastly,  if  every  early  hope  that  stirred 
my  heart  does  but  wane  and  pale  within  me,  as  stars  go 
out  when  day  is  near,  you  cannot  wonder  that  I,  who 
stand  alone  here,  without  home  or  friend,  should  feel  a 
throb  of  fear  at  aught  which  may  tarnish  a  name  that  has 
yet  no  memory  of  past  services  to  rely  upon.  And  if  you 
knew  how  sorely  such  emotions  war  against  the  spirit  that 
lives  here,  believe  me,  you  had  never  made  the  reproach — 
my  punishment  is  enough  already." 

"  Forgive  me,  my  dear  boy,  if  1  said  anything  that  could 
wound  you  for  a  moment,"  said  the  abbe.  This  costume 
of  mine,  they  say,  gives  a  woman's  privilege,  and  truly  I 
believe  it  does  something  of  the  sex's  impertinence  also. 
I  ought  to  have  known  you  better,  and  I  do  know  you 
better  by  this  time.  And  now  let  me  press  a  "equest  I 
made  some  half  an  hour  ago — tell  me  this  same  story  of 
yours.  I  long  to  learn  something  of  the  little  boy  where  I 
feel  such  affection  for  the  man." 

The  look  of  kindness  and  the  tone  of  soothing  interest 
that  accompanied  these  words  I  could  not  resist ;  so, 
drawing  my  chair  close  towards  him,  I  began  the  narra- 
tive of  my  life.  He  listened  with  the  most  eager  atten- 
tion to  my  account  of  the  political  condition  of  Ireland, 
questioned  me  closely  as  to  my  connection  with  the  in- 
trigues of  the  period  ;  and  when  I  mentioned  the  name 
of  Charles  de  Meudon,  a  livid  paleness  overspread  his  fea- 
tures as  he  asked,  in  a  low,  hollow  tone,  if  I  were  with 
him  when  he  died  ? 

"Yes,"  replied  I,  «« by  his  bedside." 


THE    PAttK   OF   VERSAILLES.  273 

"  Did  he  ever  speak  to  you  of  me  ?  Did  he  ever  tell 
you  much  of  his  early  life  when  in  Provence  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  he  spoke  often  of  those  happy  days  in  the 
old  chateau,  where  his  sister,  on  whom  he  doted  to  dis- 
traction, was  his  companion.  Hers  was  a  sad  story,  too. 
Strange,  is  it  not,  I  have  never  heard  of  her  since  I  came 
to  France  ?  " 

A  long  pause  followed  these  words,  and  the  abbe  leaned 
his  head  upon  his  hand,  and  seemed  to  be  lost  in  thought. 

"  She  was  in  love  with  her  cousin,"  I  continued,  "  and 
Charles,  unhappily,  refused  his  consent.  Unhappily,  I  say, 
for  he  wept  over  his  conduct  on  his  death-bed." 

"  Did  he  ?  "  cried  the  abbe,  with  a  start,  while  his  eye 
flashed  fire,  and  his  nostrils  swelled  and  dilated  like  a 
chafed  horse.  "  Did  he  do  this  ?  " 

"  Yes,  bitterly  he  repented  it ;  and  although  he  never 
confessed  it,  I  could  see  that  he  had  been  deceived  by 
others,  and  turned  from  his  own  high-souled  purpose 
respecting  his  sister.  I  wonder  what  became  of  Claude — 
he  entered  the  Church." 

"  Ay,  and  lies  there  now,"  replied  the  abbe,  sternly. 

"  Poor  fellow !  is  he  dead,  too  ?  and  so  young." 

"  Yes.  He  contrived  to  entangle  himself  in  some 
Jacobite  plot." 

"  Why,  he  was  a  royalist." 

"  So  he  was.  It  might  have  been  another  conspiracy, 
then — some  chouan  intrigue.  Whatever  it  was,  the 
Government  heard  of  it ;  he  was  arrested  at  the  door  of 
his  own  presbytere  ;  the  grenadiers  were  drawn  up  in  his 
own  garden,  and  he  was  tried,  condemned,  and  shot  in 
less  than  an  hour.  The  officer  of  the  company  ate  the 
dinner  that  was  preparing  for  him." 

"  What  a  destiny  !     And  Marie  de  Meudon  ?  " 

"  Hush !  the  name  is  proscribed.  The  De  Meudons 
professed  strong  royalist  opinions,  and  Bonaparte  would 
not  permit  her  bearing  her  family  name.  She  is  known 
by  that  of  her  mother's  family,  except  by  those  poor 
minions  of  the  Court  who  endeavour,  with  their  fade 
affectation,  to  revive  the  graceful  pleasantries  of  Mario 
Antoinette's  time,  and  they  call  her  La  Rose  de  Provence." 

"  La  Rose  de  Provence,"  cried  I,  springing  up  from  my 
chair,  "the  sister  of  Charles!  "  while  a  thrill  of  ecstasy 


274  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

ran  through  my  frame,  followed  the  moment  after  by  a 
cold,  faint  feel ;  and  I  sank  almost  breathless  in  the  chair. 

"  Ha ! "  cried  the  abbe,  leaning  over  me,  and  holding 

the  lamp  close  to  my  face,  "  what "  And  then,  as  he 

resumed  his  place,  he  slowly  muttered  between  his  teeth, 
"  I  did  not  dream  of  this." 

Not  a  word  was  now  spoken  by  either.  The  abbe"  sat 
mute  and  motionless,  his  eyes  bent  npon  the  floor,  and  his 
hands  clasped  before  him.  As  for  me,  every  emotion  of 
hope  and  fear,  joy  and  sorrow,  succeeded  each  other  in  my 
mind ;  and  it  was  only  as  I  thought  of  De  Beauvais  once 
more  that  a  gloomy  despair  spread  itself  before  me,  and  I 
remembered  that  he  loved  her,  and  how  the  abbe  hinted 
his  passion  was  returned. 

"  The  day  is  breaking,"  said  D'Ervan,  as  he  opened  the 
shutter  and  looked  out ;  "  I  must  away.  Well,  I  hope  I 
may  tell  my  poor  friend  De  Beauvais  that  you'll  not  refuse 
his  request.  Charles  de  Meudon's  sister  may  have  a  claim 
on  your  kindness  too." 

"  If  I  thought  that  she " 

"  You  mean,  that  she  loved  him.  You  must  take  his 
wrord  for  that.  She  is  not  likely  to  make  a  confidant  ot 
you ;  besides,  he  tells  you  it's  a  last  meeting.  You  can 
scarcely  say  nay.  Poor  girl,  he  is  the  only  one  remaining 
to  her  of  all  her  house !  On  his  departure,  you  are  not 
more  a  stranger  here  than  is  she  in  the  land  of  her  fathers." 

"  I'll  do  it,  I'll  do  it : :>  cried  1,  passionately.  "  Let  him 
meet  me  where  he  mentioned.  I'll  be  there." 

"  That's  as  it  should  be,"  said  the  abbe,  grasping  my 
hand,  and  pressing  it  fervently ;  "  but  come,  don't  forget 
you  must  pass  me  through  this  same  cordon  of  yours." 

With  a  timid  and  shrinking  heart  I  walked  beside  the 
abbe  across  the  open  terrace,  towards  the  large  gate, 
which  with  its  bronzed  and  gilded  tracery  was  already 
shining  in  the  rich  sunlight. 

"  A  fine-looking  fellow,  that  dragoon  yonder ;  he's 
decorated,  I  see." 

"  Yes ;  an  old  hussar  of  the  Garde." 

"What's  he  called?" 

**  Pierre  Dulong ;  a  name  well  known  in  his  troop." 

*'  Halte  la ! "  cried  the  soldier,  as  we  approached. 

"  Your  officer,"  said  I. 


THE    PARK   OF    VERSAILLES.  275 

"The  word?" 

"  Arcole." 

"  Pass,  '  Arcole,'  and  good  morrow." 

"  Adieu,  lieutenant — adieu,  Pierre,"  said  the  abb6,  as 
he  waved  his  hand  and  passed  out. 

I  stood  for  a  minute  or  two  uncertain  of  purpose  ;  why, 
I  know  not.  The  tone  of  the  last  few  words  seemed 
uttered  in  something  like  a  sneer.  "  What  folly,  though  !  " 
said  I  to  myself.  "  D'Ervan  is  a  strange  fellow,  and  it  ia 
his  way." 

"  We  shall  meet  soon,  abbe,"  I  cried  out,  as  he  was  turn- 
ing the  corner  of  the  park  wall. 

"Yes,  yes,  rely  on  it,  we  shall  meet — and  soon." 

He  kept  his  word. 


M6  TOM   BUIULE    OF   "  OURS/ 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

LA    ROSE    DB    PROVENCE. 

TflE  one  thought  that  dwelt  in  my  mind  the  entire  day 
was,  that  Marie  de  Rochfort  was  Charles  de  Meudon'a 
sister.  The  fact  once  known,  seemed  to  explain  that  secret 
power  she  exercised  over  my  hopes  and  longings.  The 
spell  her  presence  threw  around  ever  as  she  passed  me  in 
the  park ;  that  strange  influence  with  which  the  few  words 
I  had  heard  her  speak  still  remained  fast-rooted  in  my 
memory ;  all  these  did  I  attribute  to  the  hold  her  name 
had  taken  of  my  heart,  as  I  sat  night  after  night  listening 
to  her  brother's  stories.  And  then,  why  had-I  not  guessed 
it  earlier  ? — why  had  I  not  perceived  the  striking  resem- 
blance which  it  now  seemed  impossible  to  overlook  ?  The 
dark  eye,  beaming  beneath  a  brow  squarely  chiselled  like 
an  antique  cameo  ;  the  straight  nose  and  short,  up-turned 
lip,  where  a  half-saucy  look  seemed  struggling  with  a  sweet 
smile ;  and  then  the  voice — was  it  not  his  own  rich, 
southern  accent,  tempered  by  her  softer  nature  ?  Yes  ;  I 
should  have  known  her.  In  reflections  like  these  I  made 
my  round  of  duty,  my  whole  heart  wrapped  up  in  this 
discovery.  I  never  thought  of  De  Beauvais,  or  his  letter. 
It  seemed  to  me  as  though  I  had  known  her  long  and 
intimately;  she  was  not  the  Rose  de  Provence  of  the 
Court — the  admired  of  the  Tuileries — the  worshipped  belle 
of  Versailles — but  Marie  de  Meudon,  the  sister  of  one  who 
loved  me  as  a  brothe? 

There  was  a  dark  alley  near  the  Trianon,  that  led  along 
the  side  of  a  little  lake,  where  rocks  and  creeping  plants, 
rudely  grouped  together,  gave  a  half-wild  aspect  to  the 
Bcene.  The  tall  beech  and  the  drooping  ash-trees  that 
grew  along  the  bank  threw  their  shadows  far  across  she 
still  water ;  and  here  I  had  remarked  that  Mademoiselle 
de  Meudon  came  frequently  alone.  It  was  a  place,  from 
its  look  of  shade  and  gloom,  little  likely  to  attract  the  gay 


LA   ROSE    DE    PROVENCE.  277 

visitors  of  the  Court,  who  better  loved  the  smoothly-shaven 
grass  of  the  Palace  walks,  or  the  broad  terraces  where 
bright  fountains  were  plashing.  Since  I  discovered  that 
she  avoided  me  when  we  met,  1  had  never  taken  this  path 
on  my  rounds,  although  leading  directly  to  one  of  my  out- 
posts, but  preferred  rather  a  different  and  longer  route. 
Now,  however,  I  sought  it  eagerly,  and,  as  I  hurried  on,  I 
dreaded  lest  my  unwonted  haste  might  excite  suspicion. 
I  resolved  to  see  and  speak  to  her.  It  was  her  brother's 
wish  that  I  should  know  her  ;  and  till  now  I  felt  as  though 
my  great  object  in  coming  to  France  was  unobtained,  if  I 
knew  not  her  whose  name  was  hallowed  in  my  memory. 
Poor  Charles  used  to  tell  me  she  would  be  a  sister  to  me. 
How  my  heart  trembled  at  the  thought !  As  I  drew  near 
I  stopped  to  think  how  she  might  receive  me  ;  with  what 
feelings  hear  me  speak  of  one  who  was  the  cause  of  all 
her  unhappiness.  But  then  they  said  she  loved  De 
Beauvais.  What !  was  poor  Claude  forgotten  ?  Was  all 
the  love-dream  of  her  first  affection  passed  ?  My  thoughts 
ran  wild  as  different  impulses  struggled  through  them,  and 
I  could  resolve  on  nothing.  Before  me,  scarcely  a  dozen 
paces,  and  alone,  she  stood  looking  on  the  calm  lake, 
where  the  light  in  golden  and  green  patches  played,  as  it 
struggled  through  the  dense  foliage.  The  clattering  of 
my  sabre  startled  her,  and,  without  looking  back,  she 
dropped  her  veil,  and  moved  slowly  on. 

"  Mademoiselle  de  Meudon,"  said  I,  taking  off  my  chako, 
and  bowing  deeply  before  her. 

"  What — how  !  Why  this  name,  sir  ?  Don't  you  know 
it's  forbidden  here  ?  " 

"  I  know  it,  madame ;  but  it  is  by  that  name  alone  I 
dare  to  speak  to  you  ;  it  was  by  that  I  learned  to  know  you 
— from  one  who  loved  you,  and  who  did  not  reject  my 
humble  heart — one  who,  amid  all  the  trials  of  hard  fate, 
felt  the  hardest -to  be — the  wrong  he  did  his  sister." 

"  Did  you  speak  of  my  brother  Charles  ?  "  said  she,  in  a 
voice  low  and  tremulous. 

"  I  did,  madame.  The  last  message  his  lips  ever  uttered 
was  given  to  me,  and  for  you.  Not  until  last  night  did  I 
know  that  I  was  every  hour  of  the  day  so  near  to  one 
whose  name  was  treasured  in  my  heart." 

"  Oh !  tell  me  of  him — tell  me  of  my  dear  Charles  1 " 

Vol.  28— (10) 


278  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OTJBS." 

cried  she,  as  the  tears  ran  fast  down  her  pale  cheeks. 
"  Where  was  his  death  ?  Was  it  among  strangers  that 
he  breathed  his  last  ?  Was  there  one  there  who  loved 
him?" 

"  There  was — there  was ! "  cried  I,  passionately,  unable 
to  sny  more. 

"And  where  was  that  youth  that  loved  him  so  tenderly  ? 
I  heard  of  him  as  one  who  never  left  his  side — tending 
him  in  sickness,  and  watching  beside  him  in  sorrow.  Was 
be  not  there  ?  " 

"  I  was — I  was.  My  hand  held  his.  In  my  ear  his 
last  sigh  was  breathed." 

"  Oh !  was  it  you  indeed  who  were  my  brother's  friend  ?  " 
said  she,  seizing  my  hand,  and  pressing  it  to  her  lips. 
The  hot  tears  dropped  heavily  on  my  wrist,  and  in  my 
ecstasy  I  knew  not  where  I  was.  "  Oh  !  "  cried  she,  pas- 
sionately, "  I  did  not  think  that  in  my  loneliness  such  a 
happiness  as  this  remained  for  me.  I  never  dreamed  to 
see  and  speak  to  one  who  knew  and  loved  my  own  dear 
Charles — who  could  tell  me  of  his  solitary  hours  of  exile  ; 
what  hopes  and  fears  stirred  that  proud  heart  of  his ;  who 
could  bring  back  to  me  in  all  their  force  again  the  bright 
hours  of  our  happy  youth,  when  we  were  all  to  each 
other ;  when  our  childhood  knew  no  greater  bliss  than 
that  we  loved.  Alas !  alas !  how  short-lived  was  it  all ! 
He  lies  buried  beyond  the  sea  in  the  soil  of  the  stranger, 
and  I  live  on  to  mourn  over  the  past,  and  shudder  at  the 
future.  But  come,  let  us  sit  down  upon  this  bank.  You 
must  not  leave  me  till  I  hear  all  about  him.  Where  did 
you  meet  first  ?  " 

We  sat  down  upon  a  grassy  bench  beside  the  stream, 
where  I  at  once  began  the  narrative  of  my  first  acquaint- 
ance with  De  Meudon.  At  first  the  rush  of  sensations 
that  came  crowding  on  me  made  me  speak  with  difficulty 
and  effort.  The  nutter  of  her  dress  as  the  soft  wind  waved 
it  to  and  fro,  the  melody  of  her  voice,  and  her  full,  languid 
eye,  where  sorrow  and  long-buried  affection  mingled  their 
expression,  sent  thrilling  through  my  heart  thoughts  that 
I  dared  not  dwell  upon.  Gradually,  as  I  proceeded,  my 
mind  recurred  to  my  poor  friend,  and  I  warmed  as  T 
spoke  of  his  heroic  darings  and  his  bold  counsels.  All 
his  high-souled  ardour,  all  the  nobleness  of  his  great 


i,A    ROSE    DE    PROVENCE.  279 

nature,  his  self-devotion,  and  his  suffering,  were  again 
before  me,  mingled  with  those  traits  of  womanly  softness 
which  only  belong  to  those  whose  courage  is  almost  fana- 
ticism. How  her  dark  eyes  grew  darker  as  she  listened, 
and  her  parted  lips  and  her  fast-heaving  bosom  betrayed 
the  agitation  that  she  felt!  And  how  that  proud  look 
melted  into  sorrow  when  I  told  of  the  day  when  his  out- 
pouring heart  recurred  to  home  and  her,  the  loved  one  of 
his  boyhood ! 

Every  walk  in  that  old  terraced  garden,  each  grassy 
alley,  and  each  shady  seat,  I  knew  as  though  I  saw  them. 
Although  I  did  not  mention  Claude,  nor  even  distinctly 
allude  to  the  circumstances  whic1'  led  to  their  unhappi- 
ness,  I  could  see  that  her  cheek  became  paler  and  paler, 
and  that,  despite  an  effort  to  seem  calm,  the  features 
moved  with  a  slight  jerking  motion,  her  lip  trembled 
convulsively,  and,  with  a  low,  sad  sigh  she  fell  back 
fainting. 

I  sprang  down  the  bank  towards  the  lake,  and  in  an  in  - 
Btant  dipped  my  chako  in  the  water;  and  as  I  hastened 
back,  she  was  sitting  up,  her  eyes  staring  madly  round  her, 
her  look  wild  almost  to  insanity,  while  her  outstretched 
finger  pointed  to  the  copse  of  low  beech  near  us. 

"There,  there!  I  saw  him!"  said  she.  "He  was 
there  now.  Look  !  look !  "  Shocked  at  the  terrified  ex- 
pression of  her  features,  and  alarmed  lest  my  story  had 
conjured  up  before  her  disordered  imagination  the  image 
of  her  lost  brother,  I  spoke  to  her  in  words  of  encourage- 
ment. "  No,  no,"  replied  she  to  my  words ,  "  I  saw  him 
— I  heard  his  voice,  too.  Let  us  leave  this.  Bring  me  to 

the  Trianon  ;  and "  The  terrified  and  eager  look  she 

threw  around  at  each  word  did  not  admit  of  longer  par- 
ley, and  I  drew  her  arm  within  mine  to  lead  her  forward. 
"  This  is  no  fancy,  as  you  deem  it,"  said  she,  in  a  low  and 
broken  tone,  to  which  an  accent  of  bitterness  lent  a  terrible 
power  ;  "  nor  could  the  grave  give  up  before  me  one  so  full 
of  terror  to  my  heart  as  him  I  saw  there."  Her  head 
Bank  heavily  as  she  uttered  this ;  and,  notwithstanding 
every  effort  I  made,  she  spoke  no  more,  nor  would  give 
me  any  answer  to  my  questions  regarding  the  cause  of  her 
fears.  As  we  walked  forward  we  heard  the  sound  of 
voices,  which  she  at  once  recognized  as  belonging  to  the 


280  TOM   BURKE   OP   "  OURS.*' 

Court  party,  and  pressing  my  hand  slightly,  she  motioned 
me  to  leave  her.  I  pressed  the  pale  fingers  to  my  lips, 
and  darted  away,  my  overy  thought  bent  on  discovering 
the  cause  of  her  late  fright.  In  an  instant  I  was  back 
beside  the  lake.  I  searched  every  copse  and  every  brake. 
I  wandered  for  hours  through  the  dark  woods,  but  nothing 
could  I  see.  I  stooped  to  examine  the  ground,  but  could 
not  even  detect  the  pressure  of  a  footstep.  The  dried 
branches  lay  unbroken,  and  the  leaves  impressed  around ; 
and  I  at  last  became  convinced  that  an  excited  brain,  and 
a  mind  harassed  by  a  long  sorrow,  had  conjured  up  the 
image  she  spoke  of.  As  I  approached  the  picket,  which 
was  one  of  the  most  remote  in  my  rounds,  I  resolved  to 
ask  the  sentry  had  he  seen  any  one. 

"  Yes,  lieutenant,"  said  the  soldier ;  "  a  man  passed 
some  short  time  ago  in  an  undress  uniform.  He  gave 
the  word,  and  I  let  him  proceed." 

"  Was  he  old  or  young  ?  " 

"  Middle-aged,  and  of  your  height." 

**  Which  way  did  he  take  ?  " 

"  He  turned  towards  the  left  as  he  passed  out ;  I  lost 
sight  of  him  then." 

I  hurried  immediately  onward,  and  entered  the  wood  by 
the  path  in  the  direction  mentioned,  my  mind  painfully 
excited  by  what  I  heard,  and  resolved  to  do  everything  to 
probe  this  matter  to  the  bottom;  but,  though  I  walked 
miles  in  every  direction,  I  met  none  save  a  few  fagot- 
gatherers,  and  they  had  not  seen  any  one  like  him  I  sought 
for.  With  a  weary  and  a  heavy  heart  I  turned  towards 
my  quarters,  all  the  happiness  of  the  morning  dashed  by 
the  strange  event  I  have  related.  My  night  was  feverish 
and  disturbed;  for  a  long  time  I  could  not  sleep,  and, 
when  I  did,  wild  and  terrible  fancies  came  on  me,  and  I 
started  up  in  terror.  A  horrible  face  recurred  at  every 
instant  to  my  mind's  eye ;  and  even  when  awake,  the  least 
noise,  the  slightest  rustling  of  the  leaves  in  the  park, 
agitated  and  excited  me.  At  last,  worn  out  with  the  pain- 
ful struggle  between  sleep  and  waking,  I  arose  and  dressed. 
The  day  was  breaking,  and  already  the  birds  were  carol- 
ling to  the  rising  sun.  I  strolled  out  into  the  park.  The 
fresh  and  bracing  air  of  morning  cooled  my  burning  brow; 
the  mild  influences  of  the  hour,  when  sweet  perfumes  float 


LA   ROSE    DE    PROVENCE.  281 

softly  in  the  dew-loaded  breeze,  soothed  and  calmed  me; 
and  I  wandered  back  in  thought  to  her  who  already  had 
given  a  charm  to  my  existence  I  never  knew  before. 

The  long  wished-for  dream  of  my  boyhood  was  realized 
at  last.  1  knew  the  sister  of  my  friend.  I  sat  beside  her, 
and  heard  her  speak  to  me  in  tones  so  like  his  own.  I  was  no 
longer  the  friendless  alien,  without  one  to  care  for,  one  to 
feel  interested  in  his  fortunes.  The  isolation  that  pressed 
so  painfully  on  me  fled  before  that  thought,  and  now  I  felt 
raised  in  my  own  esteem  by  those  dark  eyes  that  thanked 
me  as  I  spoke  of  poor  Charles.  What  a  thrill  that  look 
sent  through  my  heart !  Oh,  did  she  know  the  power  of 
that  glance !  Could  she  foresee  what  seeds  of  high  ambi- 
tion her  every  smile  was  sowing !  The  round  of  my  duty 
was  to  me  devoid  of  all  fatigue,  and  I  returned  to  my 
quarters  with  a  light  step  and  a  lighter  heart. 

The  entire  day  I  lingered  about  the  Tn'auon  and  near 
the  lake,  but  Marie  never  came,  nor  did  she  appear  in  the 
walks  at  all.  "  Was  she  ill  ?  had  the  vision,  whatever  it 
was,  of  yesterday,  preyed  upon  her  health  ?  "  were  my  first 
thoughts,  and  I  inquired  eagerly  if  any  doctor  had  been 
seen  about  the  chateau  ;  but  no,  nothing  unusual  seemed  to 
have  occurred,  and  a  ball  was  to  take  place  that  very  even- 
ing. I  would  have  given  worlds,  were  they  mine,  even  to 
know  in  what  part  of  the  Palace  she  was  lodged  ;  and  fifty 
times  did  I  affect  to  have  some  duty,  as  an  excuse  to  cross 
the  terrace,  and  steal  a  cautious  glance  towards  the  win- 
dows, but  in  vain. 

So  engrossed  was  my  mind  with  thoughts  of  her  that  I 
forgot  all  else.  The  pickets,  too,  I  had  not  visited  since 
daybreak,  and  my  report  to  the  minister  remained  unfilled 
It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  I  sallied  forth  to  my  duty, 
and  night,  with  scarce  a  star,  was  falling  fast.  My  pre- 
occupation prevented  my  feeling  the  way  as  I  walked 
along ;  and  I  had  already  visited  all  the  outposts  except 
one,  when  a  low,  faint  whistle,  that  seemed  to  issue  from 
the  copse  near  me,  startled  me.  It  was  repeated  after  a 
moment,  and  I  called  out, — 
"  Who's  there  ?  Advance." 

"Ah,  I  thought  it  was  you,  Burke,"  said  a  voice  I  at 
once  knew  to  be  Beauvais's.  "  You  broke  faith  with  me 
at  the  town-gate  yonder,  and  so  I  had  to  come  down  here.** 


282  TOM    BURKE    OP    "  OURS." 

"  How  ?     You  surely  were  not  there  when  1  passed  ?  " 

•'Yes,  but  I  was,  though.  Did  you  not  see  the  wood- 
cutter, with  his  blouse  on  his  arm,  lighting  his  pipe  at  the 
door  of  the  guard-house  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  you  can't  mean  that  it  was  you." 

"  Do  yon  remember  his  saying, '  Buy  a  cheap  charretee  of 
wood,  lieutenant — I'll  leave  it  at  your  quarters  ?  ' ' 

"  De  Beauvais,"  said  I,  gravely,  "  these  risks  maybe 
fatal  to  us  both.  My  orders  are  positive,  and  if  I  disobey 
them  there  are  no  powerful  friends  nor  high  relatives  to 
screen  me  from  a  deserving  punishment." 

"  What  folly  you  speak,  Burke  !  If  I  did  not  know  you 
better,  I  should  say  you  grudged  me  the  hospitality  I  have 
myself  asked  you  for.  One  night  to  rest — and  I  need  it 
much,  if  you  knew  but  all — and  one  day  to  speak  to  Marie, 
and  you  have  done  with  me.  Is  that  too  much  ?  " 

"  No — not  if  I  did  not  betray  a  trust  in  sheltering 
you,  far  too  little  to  speak  of,  much  less  thank  me  for; 
but " 

"  Do  spare  me  these  scruples,  and  let  us  take  the  shortest 
way  to  your  quarters ;  a  supper,  and  three  chairs  to  sleep 
on,  are  worth  all  your  arguments,  eloquent  though  they 
be." 

We  walked  on  together,  almost  in  silence ;  I  over- 
whelmed with  fear  for  the  result  should  my  conduct  ever 
become  known,  he  evidently  chagrined  at  my  reception  of 
him,  and  little  disposed  to  make  allowances  for  scruples  he 
would  not  have  respected  himself. 

"  So  here  we  are  at  last,"  said  he,  as  he  threw  himself  on 
my  little  sofa,  seemingly  worn  out  with  exhaustion.  I  had 
now  time  to  look  at  him  by  the  light,  and  almost  started 
back  at  the  spectacle  that  presented  itself.  His  dress, 
which  was  that  of  the  meanest  peasant,  was  ragged  and 
torn ;  his  shoes  scarce  held  together  with  coarse  thongs, 
and  his  beard,  unshaven  for  weeks  past,  increased  the 
haggard  look  of  features  where  actual  want  and  starvation 
seemed  impressed.  "  You  are  surprised  at  my  costume," 
said  he,  with  a  sad  smile ;  "  and,  certes,  Crillac  would  not 
court  a  customer  habited  as  I  am  just  now ;  but  what  will 
you  say  when  I  assure  you  that  the  outward  man — and  you 
will  not  accuse  him  of  any  voluptuous  extravagance — haa 
a  very  great  advantage  over  the  inner  one  ?  In  plain 


LA   ROSE    DB    PROVENCE.  288 

words,  lieutenant,  you'd  hurry  your  cook,  if  you  knew  I 
have  not  tasted  food,  save  what  the  hedges  afford,  for  two 
days  ;  not  from  poverty  neither  ;  there's  wherewithal  there 
to  dine,  even  at  Beauvilliers's."  He  rattled  a  well-filled 
purse  as  he  spoke. 

"  Come,  come,  De  Beauvais,  you  accuse  me  of  doing  the 
honours  with  a  bad  grace,  and,  in  truth,  I  wish  I  were  your 
host  outside  the  pickets  ;  but  let  me  retrieve  my  character 
a  little— taste  this  capon." 

"  If  you  never  dined  with  a  wolf,  you  shall  now,"  said 
he,  drawing  his  chair  to  the  table  and  filling  a  large  goblet 
with  Burgundy.  For  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  he  ate  on  like 
a  man  whom  long  starvation  had  rendered  half  savage ; 
then  ceasing  suddenly,  he  looked  up,  and  said,  "  Lieu- 
tenant, the  cuisine  here  might  tempt  a  more  fastidious  man 
than  I  am ;  and  if  these  people  are  not  hospitable  enough 
to  invite  you  to  their  soirees,  they  certainly  do  not  starve 
yDu  at  home." 

"  How  knew  you  that  I  was  not  asked  to  the  chateau  ?  " 
said  I,  reddening  with  a  sense  of  offended  pride  I  could 
not  conceal. 

"  Know  it  ?  Why,  man,  these  things  are  known  at  once  ; 
people  talk  of  them  in  saloons  and  morning  visits,  and 
comment  on  them  in  promenades ;  and  though  I  seem  not 
to  have  been  keeping  company  with  the  beau  mondt 
latterly,  I  hear  what  goes  on  there  too.  But  trust  me,  boy, 
if  your  favour  stands  not  high  with  the  Court  of  to-day, 
you  may  perhaps  be  preparing  the  road  to  fortune  with 
that  of  to-morrow." 

"Though  you  speak  in  riddle,  De  Beauvais,  so  long 
as  I  suspect  that  what  you  mean  would  ofier  insult  to 
those  I  serve,  let  me  say — and  I  say  it  in  all  temper, 
but  in  all  firmness — you'll  find  no  ready  listener  in 
me.  The  highest  favour  I  aspire  to  is  the  praise  of  our 
great  chief,  General  Bonaparte,  and  here  1  pledge  his 
health." 

"  I'll  drink  no  more  wine  to-night,"  said  he,  sulkily 
pushing  his  glass  before  him.  "  Is  this  to  be  my  bed  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not ;  miue  is  ready  for  you.  I'll  rest  on 
the  sofa  there ;  for  I  shall  have  to  visit  my  pickets  by  day- 
break." 

"In   Heaven's  name,  for  what?"    said  he,  with  a  half 


284  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS." 

sneer.  "What  can  that  poor  Savary  be  dreaming  of?  It 
there  any  one  about  to  steal  the  staircase  of  the  Louvre,  or 
the  clock  from  the  pavilion  of  the  Tuileries  ?  or  is  it  the 
savants  of  the  Institute  he's  afraid  of  losing  ?  " 

"  Bail  on,  my  good  friend ;  you'll  find  it  very  hard  to 
make  an  old  scholar  of  the  Polytechnique  think  poorly  of 
the  man  that  gains  battles." 

"  Well,  well,  I  give  up  my  faith  in  physiognomy.  Do 
you  remember  that  same  evening  in  the  Tuileries,  when  1 
asked  your  pardon,  and  begged  to  be  your  friend  ?  I  thought 
you  a  different  fellow  then  from  what  I  see  you  now  ;  that 
silly  hussar  pelisse  has  turned  many  a  head  before  yours." 

"  You  wish  to  make  me  angry,  De  Beauvais,  and  you'll 
not  succeed.  A  night's  rest  will  bring  you  to  better 
temper  with  all  the  world." 

"  Will  it,  faith  !  In  that  case  a  tolerably  large  portion 
of  it  must  take  leave  of  it  before  morning  ;  for  I  promise 
you,  my  worthy  hussar,  there  are  some  I  don't  expect  to 
feel  so  very  charitably  towards  as  you  expect." 

"  Well,  well — what  say  you  to  bed  ?  " 

*'  111  sleep  where  I  am,"  said  he,  with  some  harshness 
in  his  tone.  "  Good  night."  The  words  were  scarcely 
tittered  when  he  turned  on  his  side,  and,  shading  his  eyes 
from  the  light  with  his  hand,  fell  fast  asleep. 

It  was  already  past  midnight,  and  as  I  was  fatigued 
with  my  day's  walking,  I  soon  retired  to  my  bed,  but  not 
to  rest.  Whenever  I  closed  my  eyes,  Beauvais's  pale  and 
worn  face  seemed  before  me — the  haggard  expression  of 
suffering  and  privation  ;  and  then  I  fell  to  thinking  what 
enterprise  of  danger  could  involve  him  in  such  necessities 
as  these.  It  must  be  one  oi'  peril,  or  he  had  not  become 
what  now  I  saw  him.  His  very  voice  was  changed — its 
clear,  manly  tone  was  now  harsh  and  dissonant ;  his 
frank  and  cheerful  look  was  downcast  and  suspicious. 

At  last,  worn  out  with  thinking,  I  fell  asleep,  but  was 
suddenly  awakened  by  a  voice  snouting  from  the  outer 
room.  I  sat  up  and  listened.  It  was  De  Beauvais,  call- 
ing wildly  for  help  ;  the  cry  grew  fainter,  and  soon  sank 
into  the  long-drawn  respiration  of  repose.  Poor  fellow  ! 
even  in  1  in  dreams  his  thoughts  were  of  strife  and  danger. 


285 


CHAPTER  XXX. 
A  "WARNING. 

THE  day  was  breaking  when  I  was  up  and  stirring,  resolv 
ing  to  visit  the  pickets  before  De  Beauvais  awoke,  for  even 
still  the  tone  of  ridicule  he  assumed  was  strong  before  me. 
I  passed  stealthily  through  the  room  where  he  was  still 
sleeping  :  the  faint  light  streamed  through  the  half-closed 
shutters,  and  fell  upon  a  face  so  pale,  so  haggard,  and  so 
worn,  that  I  started  back  in  horror.  How  altered  was  he, 
indeed,  from  what  I  had  seen  him  first !  The  cheek  once 
ruddy  with  the  flush  of  youth  was  now  pinched  and  drawn 
in ;  the  very  lips  were  bloodless,  as  if  not  illness  alone, 
but  long  fasting  from  food,  had  pressed  upon  him.  His 
hair,  too,  which  used  to  fall  upon  his  shoulders  and  on  his 
neck  in  rich  and  perfumed  locks,  silky  and  delicate  as  a 
girl's,  was  now  tangled  and  matted,  and  hung  across  his 
face  and  temples  wild  and  straggling.  Even  to  his  hands 
his  changed  condition  was  apparent ;  for  they  were  torn 
and  bleeding :  while  in  the  attitude  of  sleep,  you  could 
trace  the  heavy  unconscious  slumber  of  one  utterly  worn 
out  and  exhausted.  His  dress  was  of  the  coarse  stuff  the 
peasants  wear  in  their  blouses,  and  even  that  seemed  old 
and  worn.  What  strange  career  had  brought  him  down  to 
this  I  could  not  think  ;  for  poor  as  all  seemed  about  him,  his 
well-stocked  purse  showed  that  his  costume  was  worn 
rather  for  disguise  than  necessity.  Such  was  my  first 
thought ;  my  second,  more  painful  still,  recurred  to  her  he 
loved,  by  whom  he  was,  perhaps,  beloved  in  turn.  Oh  !  if 
anything  can  add  to  the  bitter  smart  of  jealousy,  it  is  the 
dreadful  conviction  that  she  for  whom  our  heart's  best 
blood  would  flow  to  ensure  one  hour  of  happiness,  has 
placed  her  whole  life's  fortune  on  the  veriest  chance,  be- 
stowing her  love  on  one  whose  life  gives  no  guarantee 
for  the  future — no  hope,  no  pledge,  that  the  world's 
wildest  schemes  of  daring  and  ambition  are  not  dearer  to 


286  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS." 

his  eyes  than  all  her  charms  and  affections.  How  does 
our  own  deep  devotion  come  up  before  us  contrasted  with 
this  ;  and  how,  in  the  consciousness  of  higher  motives  and 
more  ennobling  thoughts,  do  we  still  feel  inferior  to  him 
who,  if  poor  in  all  besides,  is  rich  in  her  love.  Such  en- 
vious feelings  filled  my  heart,  as  I  looked  on  him ;  and 
with  slow,  sad  step  I  moved  on,  when  by  accident  I  carne 
against  a  chair,  and  threw  it  down.  The  noise  awoke 
him,  and  with  a  spring  he  was  on  his  legs,  and,  drawing 
pistol  from  his  bosom,  cried  out, — 

"  Ha !— what  is't  ?  Why  Burke,  it's  you  1  What  hour 
is  it?" 

"  Not  four  yet.  I'm  sorry  to  have  disturbed  you,  De 
Beauvais ;  but  the  chair  here " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  placed  it  so  last  night.  I  felt  so  very 
heavy  that  I  could  not  trust  myself  with  waking  to  a 
slight  noise.  Where  to,  so  early  ?  Ah  !  these  pickets — I 
forgot."  And  with  that  he  lay  down  again,  and  before  I 
left  the  house  was  fast  asleep  once  more. 

Some  trifling  details  of  duty  detained  me  at  one  or  two 
of  the  outposts,  and  it  was  beyond  my  usual  time  when  1 
turned  homeward.  I  had  but  just  reached  the  broad  alley 
that  leads  to  the  foot  of  the  great  terrace,  when  1  saw  a 
figure  before  me  hastening  on  towards  the  chateau.  The 
flutter  of  the  dress  showed  it  to  be  a  woman,  and  then  the 
thought  flashed  on  me — it  was  Mademoiselle  de  Meudon. 
Yes,  it  was  her  step— I  knew  it  well.  She  had  left  the 
place  thus  early  to  meet  De  Beauvais.  Without  well 
knowing  what  I  did,  I  had  increased  my  speed,  and 
was  now  rapidly  overtaking  her,  when  the  noise  of  my 
footsteps  on  the  ground  made  her  turn  about  and  look 
back.  I  stopped  short  suddenly.  An  indistinct  sense  of 
something  culpable  on  my  part,  in  thus  pursuing  her, 
flitted  across  my  mind,  and  I  could  not  move.  There  she 
stood,  too,  motionless  ;  but  for  a  second  or  two  only,  and 
then  beckoned  to  me  with  her  hand.  I  could  scarcely 
trust  my  eyes,  nor  did  I  dare  to  stir  till  she  had  repeated 
t,he  motion  twice  or  thrice. 

As  I  drew  near,  1  remarked  that  her  eyes  were  red  with 
weeping,  and  her  face  pale  as  death.  For  a  moment  she 
gazed  steadfastly  at  me,  and  then,  with  a  voice  whose 
accent  I  can  never  forget,  she  said, — 


A  "WARNING.**  287 

"  And  you,  too,  the  dearest  friend  of  my  own  Charles, 
wl  ose  very  death-bed  spoke  of  loyalty  to  him,  how  have 
you  been  drawn  from  your  allegiance  ?  " 

I  stood  amazed  and  astounded,  unable  to  utter  a  word 
in  reply,  when  she  resumed, — 

"  For  them  there  is  reason,  too.  They  lived,  or  their 
fathers  did,  in  the  sunshine  of  the  old  Monarchy.  Wealth, 
rank,  riches,  power — all  were  theirs :  but  you,  who  came 
..  mongst  us  with  high  hopes  of  greatness,  where  others 
have  earned  them  on  the  field  of  battle — whose  youth  is  a 
guarantee  that  base  and  unworthy  thoughts  should  form 
no  part  of  his  motives,  and  whose  high  career  began  under 
the  very  eyes  of  him,  the  idol  of  every  soldier's  heart — 
oh!  why  turn  from  such  a  path  as  this,  to  dark  and 
crooked  ways,  where  low  intrigue,  and  plot,  and  treachery 
are  better  weapons  than  your  own  stout  hetrt  and  your 
own  bright  sword  ?  " 

"  Hear  me,  I  pray  you,"  said  I,  bursting  into  impa- 
tience— "  hear  me  but  one  word,  and  know  that  you 
accuse  me  wrongfully.  I  have  no  part  in,  nor  have  I 
knowledge  of,  any  treason." 

"  Oh,  speak  not  thus  to  me.  There  are  those  who  may 
call  their  acts  by  high-sounding  titles,  and  say — '  We  are 
but  restoring  our  own  sovereigns  to  the  land  they  owned  ;' 
but  you  are  free  to  think  and  feel.  No  prestige  of  long 
years  blinds  your  reason,  or  obstructs  your  sense  of 
right." 

"  Once  more  I  swear,  that  though  J.  can  but  guess  at 
where  your  suspicions  point,  my  faith  is  now  as  true,  my 
loyalty  as  firm,  as  when  I  pledged  myself  at  your  dear 
brother's  side  to  be  a  soldier." 

"  Then  why  have  you  mixed  yourself  with  their  in- 
tr-gues?  Why  are  you  already  suspected?  Why  has 
Madame  Bonaparte  received  orders  to  omit  your  name 
in  all  the  invitations  to  the  chateau  ?  " 

"  Alas !  I  know  not.  I  learn  now,  for  the  first  time, 
khat  suspicion  ever  attached  to  me." 

"  It  is  said,  too — for  already  such  things  are  spoken  of 
— that  you  know  that  dreadful  man,  whose  very  presence 
is  contamination.  Oh !  does  it  not  seem  like  fate,  that 
his  dark  path  should  traverse  evenr  portion  of  my 
destiny  ?  " 


288  TOM   BURKE  OP    "  OURS.'* 

The  sobs  that  burst  from  her  at  these  words  seemed  H 
rend  her  very  bosom. 

"  They  say,"  continued  she,  while  her  voice  trembled 
with  strong  emotion — "  they  say  he  has  been  here." 

"  I  know  not  of  whom  you  speak,"  said  I,  as  a  cold  chill 
ran  through  my  blood. 

"  Mehee  de  la  Touche,"  replied  she,  with  an  effort. 

"  I  never  heard  of  him  till  now — the  very  name  is  un- 
known to  me." 

"  Thank  God  for  this,"  muttered  she  between  her  teeth. 
**  I  thought,  perhaps,  that  De  Beauvais  had  made  you 
known  to  each  other." 

"  No ;  De  Beauvais  never  introduced  me,  save  to  some 
friends  of  his  one  evening  at  a  supper,  several  months 
back ;  and  only  one  of  them  have  I  ever  seen  since,  an 
Abbe  d'Ervan ;  and,  indeed,  if  I  am  guilty  of  any  breach 
of  duty,  I  did  not  think  the  reproach  was  to  come  from 
you." 

The  bitterness  of  these  last  words  was  wrung  from  me 
in  a  moment  of  wounded  pride. 

"  How!  what  mean  you?"  said  she  impetuously.  "No 
one  has  dared  to  call  my  fidelity  into  question,  nor  speak 
of  me  as  false  to  those  who  cherish  and  protect  me." 

"  You  mistake  my  meaning,"  said  I,  sadly  and  slowly ; 
then  hesitating  how  far  I  should  dare  allude  to  De  Beau- 
vais's  affection,  I  stopped,  when  suddenly  her  face  became 
deeply  flushed,  and  a  tear  started  to  her  eye.  "  Alas  !  she 
loves  him,"  said  I  to  my  heart,  and  a  sickness  like  death 
passed  over  me. 

"  Leave  me,  leave  me  quickly,"  cried  she.  "  I  see  per- 
sons watching  us  from  the  terrace."  And  with  that  she 
moved  hastily  on  towards  the  chateau,  and  I  turned  into 
one  of  the  narrow  walks  that  led  into  the  wood. 

Two  trains  of  thought  struggled  for  mastery  in  my 
mind:  how  had  I  become  suspected?  how  should  I  wipe 
out  the  stain  upon  my  honour? 

There  was  not  an  incident  of  my  life  since  my  landing 
in  France  I  did  not  call  to  mind  ;  and  yet,  save  in  the 
unhappy  meeting  with  De  Beauvais,  I  could  not  see  the 
slightest  probability  that  even  malevolence  could  attach 
anything  to  my  reputation.  From  D'Ervan,  it  is  true,  I 
hoard  more  than  once  opinions  that  startled  me ;  less, 


A    "  WARNING."  289 

however,  by  anything  direct  in  their  meaning,  than  that 
they  were  totally  new  and  strange ;  and  yet  the  abbe,  I 
had  every  reason  to  believe,  was  a  friend  of  the  present 
Government — at  least  it  was  evident  he  was  on  terms  of 
close  intimacy  with  Monsieur  Savary. 

"  De  Beauvais  must  clear  up  some  of  these  doubts  for 
me,"  thought  I ;  "he  must  inform  me  more  particularly  as 
to  those  to  whom  he  introduced  me.  I  shall  endeavour  to 
learn,  too,  something  of  their  schemes,  and  thus  guard 
myself  against  the  mere  chance  of  suspicion,  for  unques- 
tionably he  is  not  in  ignorance  of  the  movement,  what- 
ever it  be."  And  with  such  intentions  I  hurried  onwards, 
eager  to  reach  my  quarters. 

As  I  entered  my  room,  a  low,  heavy  sob  broke  on  my 
ear ;  I  started  back  with  surprise.  It  was  De  Beauvais, 
who  sat,  his  head  buried  in  his  hands,  leaning  on  the 
table. 

"  Ha ! "  said  he,  springing  up,  and  passing  his  hand 
hurriedly  across  his  eyes,  "so  soon  back  I  I  scarcely 
expected  you." 

"  It  is  past  ten  o'clock — a  full  hour  later  than  my  usual 
return." 

"  Indeed  ! "  rejoined  he,  with  an  air  of  impertinent  sur- 
prise. "  So  then  your  pickets  have  been  arresting  and 
detaining  some  poor  devils  gathering  fagots  or  acorns ;  or 
have  you  unfathomed  the  depth  of  this  terrible  plot  your 
Prefet  de  Police  has  become  insane  about  ?  " 

"Neither,"  said  I,  affecting  a  careless  tone.  "The 
Government  of  the  Consul  is"  sufficiently  strong  to  make 
men's  minds  easy  on  that  score.  Whatever  intrigues  are 
at  work,  they  are  as  little  likely  to  escape  his  keen  eye  as 
their  perpetrators  are,  when  taken,  the  fire  of  a  grenadier 
company." 

"  Ma  foi,  sir,  you  speak  confidently,"  replied  he,  in  an 
Accent  of  pride  totally  different  from  his  former  tone. 
"  And  yet  I  have  heard  of  persons  just  as  confident,  too, 
who  afterwards  confessed  they  had  been  mistaken.  But, 
perhaps,  it  seems  less  strange  to  you  that  a  sous-lieutenant 
of  artillery  should  rule  the  destinies  of  France,  than  that 
the  king  of  the  country  should  resume  the  throne  of  his 
ancestors." 

"Take  care,  De  Beauvais,  with  whom  you  speak.    I 


290  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS.'* 

warn  you  ;  and  be  assured  I'll  not  be  trifled  with.  One 
word  more,  and  I  put  you  under  arrest." 

"  Not  here,  surely,"  replied  he,  in  a  low  and  searching 
voice.  "  Not  here.  Let  us  walk  out  into  the  park — let  it 
be  in  the  great  alley,  or  on  the  terrace  yonder  ;  or,  better 
still,  let  the  capture  take  place  in  the  wood ;  but  do  not 
let  your  loyalty  violate  the  hospitality  of  your  home." 

"  Forgive  me,  I  pray ;  I  knew  not  what  I  said.  You 
tempted  me  sorely,  though.  Think  but  for  a  moment,  De 
Beauvais,  how  I  stand  here,  and  let  your  own  heart  judge 
me.  I  am  an  alien — a  friendless  stranger.  There  lives 
not  one  in  all  the  length  and  breadth  of  France  who 
would  raise  a  finger,  or  speak  one  word  to  save  me  were 
my  head  in  peril.  My  sword  and  my  fidelity  are  all  my 
hope;  that  both  should  remain  pure  and  unblemished  is 
all  my  wish.  The  grade  I  have  I  owe  to  him " 

"  Great  cause  for  gratitude,  truly,"  he  broke  in.  "  The 
chief  eteve  of  the  Polytechnique  is  made  a  sous-lieutenant 
of  cavalry,  with  functions  of  a  sergeant  of  the  gendar- 
merie, with  orders  to  stop  all  travellers,  and  search  their 
pockets.  Shame  on  it !  It  was  not  thus  the  rightful 
sovei'eigns  of  France  regarded  those  who  wore  their  epau- 
lettes— not  thus  did  they  esteem  the  soldier's  part.  Think, 
tor  a  second,  what  you  are,  and  then  reflect  what  you 
might  be.  Cold  and  unimpassioned  as  you  call  yourself, 
I  know  your  heart  better.  There  lives  not  one  who 
treasures  a  higher  ambition  in  his  breast  than  you.  Ah  ! 
your  eyes  sparkle  already.  Think,  then,  I  say,  what  a 
career  opens  before  you,  if  you  have  courage  to  embrace 
it.  It's  a  great  game  that  enables  a  man  to  spring  from 
sous-lieutenant  to  colonel  of  a  regiment.  Come,  Burke, 
I  can  have  no  reason,  save  your  welfare,  to  press  these 
considerations  on  yon.  What  are  you  writing  there  ?  " 

"  A  report  to  the  Prefet  de  Police.  I  see  now,  however 
late  it  is,  the  unworthiness  of  the  part  I've  acted,  in  re- 
maining in  a  service  where  I've  listened  to  statements  such 
as  these.  I  shall  ask  to  have  my  grade  withdrawn,  and  be 
reduced  to  the  ranks  ;  there,  perhaps,  I  may  be  permitted 
to  carry  a  soldier's  musket  without  a  stain  upon  my 
honour." 

"You  can  do  better,  sir,"  interrupted  he,  as  his  face 
grew  purple  with  passion,  and  his  eyes  flashed  fire — "  far 


A    "  W A  TAXING."  291 

better:  call  up  your  dragoons  yonder,  and  place  me  where 
you  threatened,  under  arrest ;  forward  your  report  to  the 
minister,  that  Henri  de  Beauvais,  Marquis  et  Pair  de 
France,  when  such  things  were,  has  been  taken  with  the 
'  Croix  de  St.  Louis'  and  the  cordon  in  his  possession." 
Here  he  took  from  his  bosom  the  decoration,  and  waved 
it  above  bis  head.  "  Add,  too,  that  he  came  prepared  to 
tempt  yonr  loyalty  with  this."  He  drew  forth  at  the  words 
a  parchment  document,  and  dashed  it  on  the  table  before 
me. 

"  There,  sir,  read  it ;  it  is  the  king's  own  handwriting 
— your  brevet  of  colonel  to  a  regiment  of  the  Gardes. 
Such  proofs  of  your  devotion  can  scarcely  go  unrewarded. 
They  may  raise  you  to  the  rank  of  police  spy.  There 
is  a  lady  yonder,  too,  who  chould  also  share  in  your  eleva- 
tion, as  she  does  in  your  loyal  sentiments — Mademoiselle 
de  Meudon  may  be  too  quick  for  you.  Lose  no  time,  sir  ; 
such  chances  as  these  are  not  the  fruit  of  every  day.  After 
all,  I  can  scarcely  go  to  the  guillotine  under  better  auspices 
than  with  my  cousin  and  my  friend  as  my  betrayers. 
Mayhap,  too,  they'll  do  you  the  honour  to  make  you  mount 
guard  beside  the  scaffold.  Such  an  occasion  to  display 
your  devotion  should  not  escape  yon.  David  found  it 
profitable  to  catch  the  expiring  agonies  of  his  own  friends, 
as  with  easel  and  brush  he  sat  beside  the  guillotine.  The 
hint  should  not  be  lost." 

The  insulting  emphasis  with  which  he  spoke  the  last 
words  cut  me  to  the  very  heart,  and  I  stood  speechless 
before  him,  trembling  like  a  criminal. 

"  Let  us  part,  De  Beauvais,"  said  I,  at  length,  as  I  held 
my  hand  towards  him.  "  Let  us  say  adieu  to  each  other, 
and  for  ever.  I  can  forgive  all  yon  have  said  to  me  far 
better  than  I  could  myself  had  I  listened  to  your  per- 
suasions. What  may  be  honourable  and  just  in  you  would 
be  black  ingratitude  and  dark  treachery  in  me.  I  shall 
now  endeavour  to  forget  we  have  ever  met,  and  once 
more,  good-bye  !  " 

"  You  are  right,"  replied  he,  after  a  pause  of  some 
seconds,  and  in  a  tone  of  great  sadness.  "  We  never 
should  have  met.  Adieu  !  " 

"  One  word  more,  De  Beauvais.  I  find  that  I  have  been 
suspected  of  some  treasonable  intercourse,  that  even  here  1 


292  TOM   BURKE   OF   "  OUBS." 

am  watched  and  spied  upon  ;  tell  me,  I  beseech  yon,  before 
you  go,  from  what  quarter  comes  this  danger,  that  I  may 
guard  against  it." 

rt  In  good  truth,  you  give  me  credit  for  quicker  per- 
ceptions than  I  have  any  right  to.  How  so  loyal  a  gentle- 
man should  lie  under  such  an  imputation  I  cannot  even 
guess." 

"  Your  sneers  shall  not  provoke  me.  The  fact  is  as  I 
state  it ;  and  if  you  will  not  help  me  to  the  discovery,  tell 
me,  at  least,  who  are  the  persons  to  whom  you  introduced 
me  formerly  at  Beauvilliers's  ?  " 

"Very  excellent  company!  I  trust  none  of  them  have 
cheated  you  at  ecarte." 

"  Pray,  have  done  with  jesting,  aud  answer  me.  Who 
is  your  abbe  ?  " 

"  Mafoi,  he  is  the  Abbe  d'PJrvan.  What  part  of  France 
he  comes  from — who  are  his  family,  friends,  and  resources 
— are  all  questions  I  have  never  thought  proper  to  ask 
him,  possibly  because  I  am  not  so  scrupulous  on  the  score 
of  my  acquaintances  as  you  are.  He  is  a  very  clever, 
amusing,  witty  person — knows  almost  every  one — has  the 
entree  into  every  house  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain — can 
compose  a  couplet,  and  sing  it — make  a  mayonnaise  or  a 
madrisral  better  than  any  man  I  know — and,  in  fact,  if  he 
were  >  <;  of  these  days  to  be  a  minister  of  France,  I  should 
not  be  so  very  much  surprised  as  you  appear  this  moment 
at  my  not  knowing  more  about  him.  As  to  the  other, 
the  Russian  secretary,  or  spy,  if  you  like  the  phrase  better, 
he  was  unlucky  enough  to  have  one  of  his  couriers  robbed 
by  a  party  of  brigands,  which,  scandal  says,  were  sent  out 
for  the  purpose  by  Monsieur  de  Talleyrand.  His  secret 
despatches  were  opened  and  read  ;  and  as  they  were  found 
to  implicate  the  Russian  Government  in  certain  intrigues 
carrying  on,  the  Czar  had  only  one  course  open,  which 
was  to  recall  the  sec.,  and  disavow  his  whole  proceedings. 
The  better  to  evince  his  displeasure,  1  hear  they  have  slit 
his  nose,  and  sent  him  to  pass  the  winter  at  Tobolsk. 
Lastly,  the  prefet — what  shall  I  say  of  him,  save  that  he 
was  a  prefet  in  the  south,  and  wants  to  be  one  again  ?  His 
greatest  endeavours  in  any  cause  will  be  to  pledge  its 
success  in  Burgundy,  or,  if  you  wish,  drink  the  downfall 
of  its  enemy  ;  and  as  to  his  enthusiasm,  he  cares  a  devilish 


A  "WARNING."  298 

deal  more  for  a  change  of  weather  than  a  change  of  dynasty, 
particularly  in  the  truffle  season,  or  when  the  vines  are 
ripening.  Such  are  the  truly  dangerous  associates  you 
have  kept  company  with.  It  now  only  remains  to  speak 
of  my  humble  self,  whose  history,  I  need  scarcely  say,  is 
far  more  at  your  service  than  worth  the  hearing.  Are 
you  satisfied  ?  " 

"  Quite  so,  as  regards  me ;  by  no  means  so,  however, 
as  to  your  fate.  Short  as  our  intimacy  has  been,  I  have 
seen  enough  of  you  to  know  that  qualities  like  yours 
should  not  be  wasted  in  a  mad  or  hopeless  enterprise." 

"  Who  told  you  it  was  either?"  interrupted  he,  impetu- 
ously. "  Who  dares  to  say  that  the  rule  of  a  usurper  is 
more  firmly  placed  than  the  prestige  of  a  monarchy,  that 
goes  back  to  Hugues  Capet  r*  Come,  come !  I  will  not 
discuss  these  questions  with  you,  nor  have  I  temper  now 
left  to  do  so.  Give  me  the  countersign  to  pass  the  sentry, 
and  let  us  part." 

"  Not  in  anger,  though,  De  Beauvais." 

"  Not  in  friendship,  sir,"  replied  he,  proudly,  as  he 
waved  back,  with  his,  my  proffered  hand.  "  Adieu  !  "  said 
he,  in  a  softened  tone,  as  he  moved  from  the  room,  and 
then,  turning  quickly  round,  he  added,  "We  may  meet 
again  hereafter,  and  scarcely  can  do  so  on  equal  terms. 
If  fortune  stand  by  you  I  must  be  a  beggar;  should  I 
win,  yours  is,  indeed,  a  sorry  lot.  When  that  time  comes, 
let  him  with  whom  the  world  goes  best  not  forgot  the 
other.  Good-bye  !  "  And  with  that  he  turned  away,  and 
left  the  house. 

I  watched  him  as  he  strode  along  the  silent  alleys, 
careless  and  free  as  though  he  had  no  cause  for  fear,  till 
he  disappeared  in  the  dark  wood,  and  then  1  sat  down  at 
the  door  to  think  over  our  interview.  Never  had  mr 
heart  felt  more  depressed.  My  own  weakness  in  having 
ever  admitted  the  intimacy  of  men  whose  dangerou. 
designs  were  apparent  had  totally  undermined  the  strong 
principle  of  rectitude  1  should  have  relied  upon  in  such 
a  trial,  and  on  which  I  could  have  thrown  myself  for 
support.  What  had  I  to  guide  me  after  all,  save  my 
devotion  to  the  cause  of  Bonaparte  himself?  The  pre« 
judices  of  education — the  leanings  of  family  opinion — tin 
inclinations  of  friends — exist  not  for  the  alien.  He  has  i* 


294  TOM    BURKE    OF   "  OURS." 

choose  his  allogicance — it  is  not  born  with  him  ;  his  loyalty 
is  not  the  growth  of  a  hundred  different  sympathies,  that 
have  twined  round  his  heart  in  childhood,  and  grown  with 
him  to  manhood,  speaking  of  home  and  infancy — of  his 
own  native  streams  and  mountains — of  aland  that  was  his 
father's.  No !  with  him  it  is  not  a  conviction — it  is  but 
a  feeling.  Such  was  the  substance  of  my  reverie  ;  and  as 
I  arose  and  strolled  out  into  the  park,  it  was  with  a  deeply- 
uttered  vow  to  be  true  to  him  and  his  fortunes  whose 
name  first  lit  the  spark  of  ambition  in  my  heart,  and 
through  weal  or  woe  to  devote  myself  to  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE    "  CHATEAU." 

THE  same  day  that  De  Beauvais  left  me,  the  Court  took 
its  departure  from  Versailles.  A  sudden  resolution  of 
the  Consul  to  visit  the  camp  at  Boulogne,  where  he  was 
to  be  accompanied  by  Madame  Bonaparte,  was  announced 
as  the  reason  for  this  change,  while  a  dark  rumour  ran 
that  some  detected  scheme  for  his  assassination  had  in- 
duced his  friends  to  advise  this  step.  Certain  it  was,  the 
preparations  were  made  with  the  utmost  speed,  and  in 
less  than  an  hour  after  the  despatch  had  arrived  from 
Paris,  the  Court  was  on  its  way  back  to  the  capital. 

It  was  not  without  a  sense  of  sadness  that  I  watched 
the  equipages  as  they  rolled  one  by  one  from  beneath  the 
deep  colonnade,  and  traversed  the  wide  terrace,  to  disap- 
pear in  the  recesses  of  the  dark  forest.  I  strained  my 
eyes  to  catch  even  a  passing  look  at  one  who  to  me  had 
made  every  walk  and  every  alley  a  thing  to  love.  Bat  I 
could  not  see  her ;  and  the  last  roll  of  the  retiring  wheels 


THE    "  CHATEAU."  295 

died  away  in  the  distance  without  one  friendly  voice  to 
say  adieu — one  smile  at  parting. 

Though  I  had  not  participated  in  the  festivities  of  the 
chateau,  nor  even  been  noticed  by  any  of  the  guests,  the 
absence  of  its  gay  world,  the  glitter  of  its  brilliant 
cortege,  the  neighing  steeds  in  all  their  bright  panoply, 
the  clank  of  military  music,  the  gorgeously-dressed  ladies 
who  strolled  along  its  terraced  walks,  made  the  solitude 
that  followed  appear  dark  and  desolate  indeed ;  and  now, 
as  I  walked  the  park,  whose  avenues  at  noonday  were 
silent  as  at  midnight,  the  desertion  imparted  a  melan- 
choly feeling  to  my  heart  I  could  not  explain.  How 
often  had  I  stopped  beneath  that  balcony,  striving  to  dis- 
tinguish the  soft  tones  of  one  gentle  voice  amid  the  buzz 
of  conversation !  How  had  I  watched  the  crowded  pro- 
menade every  evening  upon  the  terrace,  to  see  one  figure 
there  among  the  rest ! — and  when  my  eye  had  fallen  upon 
her,  how  has  it  followed  and  traced  her  as  she  went !  And 
now  I  frequented  each  spot  where  I  had  ever  seen  her, 
pacing  at  sunset  the  very  walk  she  used  to  take,  dwelling 
on  each  word  she  ever  spoke  to  me.  The  chateau,  too,  of 
which  before  I  had  not  passed  the  door,  I  now  revisited 
again  and  again,  lingering  in  each  room  where  I  thought 
she  had  been,  and  even  resting  on  the  chairs,  and  calling 
up  before  me  her  image  as  though  present. 

Thus  passed  over  weeks  and  months.  The  summer 
glided  into  the  mellow  autumn,  and  the  autumn  itself 
grew  cold  and  chill,  with  greyish  skies  and  sighing  winds 
that  swept  the  leaves  along  the  dark  walks,  and  moaned 
sadly  among  the  tall  beech-trees.  The  still,  calm  waters 
of  the  little  lake,  that  reflected  the  bright  foliage  and 
the  deep-blue  sky,  motionless  as  in  a  mirror,  was  now 
ruffled  by  the  passing  breeze,  and  surged  with  a  low,  sad 
sound  against  its  rocky  sides ;  and  as  I  watched  these 
changes,  I  sorrowed  less  for  the  departing  season,  than 
that  every  trace  of  her  I  loved  was  fading  from  before 
me.  The  bare  and  skeleton  branches  now  threw  their 
gaunt  shadows  where  I  had  seen  her  walk  at  noonday, 
enveloped  in  deep  shade.  Dark,  watery  clouds  were  hurry- 
ing across  the  surface  of  the  stream  where  I  had  seen 
her  fair  form  mirrored.  The  cold  winds  of  coming 
winter  swept  along  the  princely  terrace,  where  not  a 


296  TOM   BUKKE   OF   "  CUES.*' 

zephyr  rustled  her  dress  as  she  moved ;  and  somehow,  I 
could  not  help  connecting  these  changes  with  my  own 
sensations,  and  feeling  that  a  gloomy  winter  was  ap- 
proaching to  my  own  most  cherished  hopes. 

Months  passed  over  with  me  thus,  in  which,  save  on  my 
round  of  duty,  I  never  spoke  to  any  one.  D'Ervan  did 
not  return  as  he  promised — a  circumstance  which,  with 
all  my  solitude,  I  sincerely  rejoiced  at — and  of  De  Beau- 
vais  I  heard  nothing ;  and  yet,  on  one  account,  I  could 
have  wished  much  to  learn  where  he  was.  Unhappily, 
in  the  excitement  of  the  morning  I  last  saw  him,  he 
forgot  on  the  table  at  my  quarters  the  commission  of 
colonel,  by  which  he  had  endeavoured  to  tempt  my  ambi- 
tion, and  which  I  never  noticed  till  several  hours  after 
his  departure.  Unwilling  to  destroy,  and  yet  fearful  of 
retaining  it  in  my  possession,  I  knew  not  well  what  to  do, 
and  had  locked  it  up  in  my  writing-desk,  anxiously  look- 
ing for  an  opportunity  to  forward  it  to  him.  None  such, 
however,  presented  itself,  nor  did  I  ever  hear  from  him 
from  the  hour  he  left  me. 

The  unbroken  solitude  in  which  I  lived  disposed  me  to 
study,  and  I  resumed  the  course  which,  in  earlier  days,  had 
afforded  me  so  much  interest  and  amusement;  and  by 
this,  not  only  was  my  mind  drawn  off  from  the  contem- 
plation of  the  painful  circumstances  of  my  own  loneli- 
ness, but  gradually  my  former  ardour  for  military  dis- 
tinction came  back  in  all  its  force ;  and  thus  did  I  learn, 
for  the  first  time,  how  many  of  the  griefs  that  our  brains 
beget  find  their  remedies  in  the  source  they  spring  from 
— the  exercise  of  the  intellect  being  like  that  of  the  body, 
an  essential  to  a  healthy  state  of  thinking  and  feeling. 
Each  day  imparted  fresh  energy  to  me  in  the  path  I  fol- 
lowed ;  and  in  these  solitary  hours  I  made  those  acquisi- 
tions in  knowledge  which,  in  after-life,  were  to  render  me 
the  most  important  services,  and  prepare  me  for  the  con- 
tingencies of  a  soldier's  career. 

While  thus  engaged,  time  rolled  over,  and  already  the 
dark  and  gloomy  month  of  January  set  in  with  clouded 
skies  and  nights  of  storm  and  rain.  Everything  wore 
its  most  cheerless  aspect.  Not  only  were  the  trees  leaf- 
less and  bare,  the  roads  broken  up  and  fissured  with 
streams  of  water,  but  the  neglected  look  of  the  chateau 


THE    "  CHATEAU."  297 

itself  bespoke  the  sad  and  gloomy  season.  The  closed 
shutters,  the  closely-barred  doors,  the  statues  covered  up 
with  mats  to  protect  them  from  the  weather,  the  con- 
servatories despoiled  of  all  their  gay  habitants,  betrayed 
that  the  time  was  passed  when,  in  the  warm  air  of  sunset, 
happy  groups  wandered  hither  and  thither,  inhaling  the 

rich  odours  of  the  flowers,  and  eazing  on  the  brilliant 

,      , 

landscape. 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  at  night.  The  storm  that 
nsually  began  each  evening  at  the  same  hour  was  already 
stirring  in  fitful  gusts  among  the  bare  branches  of  the 
trees,  or  sending  a  sudden  plash  of  rain  against  the  win- 
dows, when,  as  I  drew  closer  to  my  fire,  and  was  preparing 
to  enjoy  myself  for  the  evening  over  my  book,  I  heard  the 
regular  tramping  sound  of  a  cavalry  horse  approaching 
along  the  terrace — the  jingle  of  the  accoutrements  was  a 
noise  I  could  not  mistake.  I  arose,  but  before  I  reached 
the  door  I  heard  a  deep  voice  call  out, — 

"  The  Sous- Lieutenant  Burke— a  despatch  from  Paris." 
I  took  the  paper,  which  was  sealed  and  folded  in  the 
most  formal  manner,  and  returning  to  the  room,  opened 
it.     The  contents  ran  thus : — 

"  Sous-Lieutenant, — On  receipt  of  this  you  are  com- 
manded to  station  four  dragoons  of  your  party,  with  a 
corporal,  on  the  road  leading  from  Chaillot  to  Versailles, 
who  shall  detain  all  persons  passing  that  way,  unable  to 
account  satisfactorily  for  their  presence.  You  will  also 
station  a  picket  of  two  dragoons  at  the  cross-road  from 
the  Tron  to  St.  Cloud  for  the  like  purpose.  The  remainder 
of  your  party  to  be  under  arms  during  the  night,  and,  if 
requisite,  at  the  disposal  of  Captain  Lepelletier.  For  the 
execution  of  which,  the  present  order  will  be  your  respon- 
sibility. 

"  (Signed) 

"  SAVABT, 

"  Colonel  de  Gendarmerie  d'Elite. 
"  Given  at  the  Tuileries,  January  14,  1804." 

"  So,"  thought  I,  "  there  is,  then,  something  astir  after 
all.  These  precautions  all  indicate  minute  and  accurate 


298  TOM  BURKE   OP    "  OURS." 

information  ;  and  now  to  perform  my  part."  Just  at  that 
instant  I  perceived  at  my  feet  a  small  note,  which  appa- 
rently had  fallen  from  the  envelope  as  I  opened  it — I  took 
it  up.  It  was  addressed — "  Sous-Lieutenant  Burke,"  with 
the  words  "  in  haste  "  written  in  the  corner.  Tearing  it 
open  at  once,  I  read  the  following : — 

"  All  is  discovered — Pichegru  arrested — Moreau  at  the 
Temple.  A  party  have  left  this  to  capture  the  others  at 
the  Chateau  d'Ancre ;  they  cannot  be  there  before  mid- 
night ;  you  may  then  yet  be  in  time  to  save  H.  de  B.,  who 
is  among  them.  Not  an  instant  must  be  lost." 

There  was  no  signature  to  this  strange  epistle,  but  I 
knew  at  once  from  whom  it  came.  Marie  alone  could 
venture  on  such  a  step  to  save  her  lover.  My  own  deter- 
mination was  taken  at  once ;  should  my  head  be  on  it,  I'd 
do  her  bidding.  While  I  sent  for  the  sergeant  to  give 
him  the  orders  of  the  colonel,  I  directed  my  servant  to 
bring  round  my  horse  to  the  door  as  lightly  equipped  as 
possible,  and,  save  the  holsters,  nothing  of  his  usual 
accoutrements.  Meanwhile  I  prepared  myself  for  the 
road  by  loading  my  pistols  and  fastening  on  my  sword ; 
the  commission,  too,  which  De  Beauvais  had  left  behind, 
I  did  not  forget,  but  taking  it  from  my  desk,  I  placed  it 
safely  in  my  bosom  ;  nor  was  the  brief  billet  omitted, 
which  having  read  and  re-read,  I  placed  in  the  lining  of 
my  cap  for  safety.  One  difficulty  still  presented  itself — 
where  was  the  chateau,  and  how  in  the  darkness  of  a 
winter's  night  should  1  find  it.  I  just  then  remembered 
that  rny  troop  sergeant,  a  sharp,  intelligent  fellow,  had 
been  for  some  weeks  past  engaged  in  procuring  forage 
about  the  neighbourhood  for  several  miles  round.  I  sent 
for  him  at  once  and  asked  him  if  he  knew  it. 

"  Yes,  lieutenant,  perfectly.  It  was  an  old  seigneurie 
once  ;  and  though  much  dismantled,  has  a  look  of  respect- 
ability still  about  it.  I've  often  been  there  to  buy  corn ; 
but  the  graft  old  farmer,  they  say,  hates  the  military,  and 
it's  not  easy  to  get  him  to  deal  with  us  at  all." 

"  What's  the  distance  from  here  ?  " 

"  Two  leagues  and  a  half,  almost  three — indeed  you 
may  count  it  as  much,  the  road  is  so  bad." 


THE  "CHATEAU."  299 

"Now  then  for  the  way — describe  it — be  as  brief  as 
you  can." 

"  You  know  the  cross  on  the  high  road  beyond  Ypres  ?  " 

"  I  do.     Proceed." 

"  Passing  the  cross  and  the  little  shrine,  go  forward  for 
a  mile  or  something  more,  till  you  come  to  a  small  cabaret 
on  the  roadside,  at  the  end  of  which  you'll  find  a  '  cJiemin 
de  traverse,''  a  clay  road,  which  will  lead  you  up  the  fields 
about  half  a  league,  to  a  large  pond,  where  they  water  the 
cattle ;  cross  this  and  continue  till  you  see  the  lights  of  a 
village  to  your  left ;  the  barking  of  the  dogs  will  guide 
you  if  the  lights  be  out ;  don't  enter  the  village,  but  go 
on  till  you  meet  an  old  gateway  covered  with  ivy,  enter 
there,  and  you  are  in  the  avenue  of  the  chateau ;  the  high 
road  is  full  five  leagues  about,  but  you'll  easily  find  this 
way.  There's  a  mastiff  there  you  should  be  on  your  guard 
against,  though  you  must  not  fire  on  him  either ;  they 
were  going  to  take  my  life  once,  that  I  half  drew  a  pistol 
fponi  my  holster  against  him,  and  I  heard  one  of  the  fel- 
lows say  to  another,  that  monseigneur's  dog  was  well 
worth  a  '  bleu '  any  day,  whatever  he  meant  by  that." 

Very  few  minutes  sufficed  to  give  my  orders  respecting 
the  picket,  and  I  was  in  my  saddle  and  ready  for  the  road  ; 
and  although  my  departure  excited  no  surprise  among  ray 
men,  coupled  as  it  was  with  the  orders  I  had  just  given,  I 
overheard  the  troop  sergeant  mutter  to  another  as  I  passed 
out — "  Parbleu,  I  always  suspected  there  was  something 
wrong  about  that  old  chateau  yonder — come  what  weather 
it  would,  they'd  never  let  you  take  shelter  within  the  walls 
of  it." 

The  night  was  so  dark,  that  when  I  turned  into  the  road 
I  could  not  even  distinguish  my  horse's  head  ;  heavy  drifts 
of  rain,  too,  went  sweeping  along,  and  the  wind  roared 
through  the  forest  with  a  noise  like  the  sea  in  a  storm. 

I  now  put  spurs  to  my  horse,  and  the  animal,  fresh 
from  long  pampering,  sprang  forward  madly,  and  dashed 
onward.  The  very  beating  of  the  rain,  the  adverse  wind, 
seemed  to  chafe  his  spirits  and  excite  his  courage. 
With  head  bent  down,  and  hands  firmly  grasping  the  reins, 
I  rode  on,  till  the  faint  glimmering  of  a  light  caught  my 
eye  at  a  distance.  A  few  miles  brought  me  beside  it.  It 
was  a  little  candle  that  burned  in  the  shrine  above  the 


800  TOM   BURKE   OF    "  OURS." 

image  of  the  Virgin.  Some  pious  but  humble  hand  had 
placed  it  there,  regardless  of  the  rain  and  storm  ;  and 
there  it  was  now  burning  secure  from  the  rude  assaults  of 
the  harsh  night,  and  throwing  its  yellow  light  on  the  few 
cheap  trinkets  which  village  devotion  had  consecrated  to 
the  beloved  saint.  As  I  looked  at  the  little  altar,  I  thought 
of  the  perilous  enterprise  I  was  engaged  in.  I  could  have 
wished  my  heart  to  have  yielded  to  the  influence  of  a  super- 
stition, which  for  every  moment  of  life  seems  to  have 
its  own  apt  consolation  and  succour.  For,  when  as  way- 
worn travellers  refresh  their  parched  lips  at  some  road- 
side well,  and  bless  the  charity  that  carved  the  little  basin 
in  the  rock — so,  followers  of  this  faith  have  ever  and  anon 
before  their  eyes  some  material  evidence  of  their  Church's 
benevolence — now  arming  them  against  the  arrows  of  the 
•world — now  rendering  them  grateful  for  benefits  received 
— now  taxing  their  selfishness  by  sacrifices  which  elevate 
them  in  their  own  esteem — now  comforting  them  by  ex- 
amples which  make  them  proud  of  their  afflictions.  It  is 
this  direct  appeal  from  the  human  heart  to  the  hourly  con- 
solations of  religion  that  forms  the  stronghold  of  belief 
in  Catholic  countries. 

These  thoughts  were  passing  through  my  mind  long 
after  I  left  the  little  shrine  behind  me.  "  So,"  said  I, 
'*  here  must  be  the  cabaret  the  sergeant  spoke  of,  "as  I 
heard  the  sound  of  a  voice  issuing  from  a  small  house  on 
the  roadside.  For  a  second  or  two  I  hesitated  whether  I 
should  not  dismount  and  ask  the  way  ;  but  a  moment's 
consideration  satisfied  me  it  were  better  to  risk  nothing  by 
delay ;  and,  cautiously  advancing,  I  heard  by  the  sound 
of  my  horse's  feet  that  we  had  left  the  high  road,  and 
were  now  on  the  clay  path  I  looked  for. 

Again  I  dashed  onward  at  a  gallop,  my  powerful  horse 
splashing  through  the  deep  ground,  or  striding  boldly 
across  the  heavy  furrows — now  breasting  some  steep  and 
rugged  ascent,  where  the  torn-up  way  gave  passage  to  a 
swollen  rivulet ;  now  plunging  down  into  some  valley, 
where  the  darkness  seemed  thicker  and  more  impenetrable 
still.  At  last  I  could  see,  far  down  beneath  me,  the 
twinkling  light  of  the  village,  and  began  to  deliberate 
with  myself  at  what  point  I  should  turn  off  leftwards. 
Bach  moment  the  path  seemed  to  lead  me  in  the  direction 


THE  "CHATEAU."  801 

of  the  light,  while  I  felt  that  my  road  led  straight  onwards. 
I  drew  my  rein  to  deliberate  what  course  I  should  take, 
when  directly  in  front  of  me  I  thought  I  could  detect  the 
clank  of  a  sabre  flapping  against  the  flank  of  a  horse.  I 
lowered  my  head  on  a  level  with  my  horse's  main,  and 
could  now  distinctly  hear  the  sound  I  suspected,  and, 
more  still,  the  deep  tones  of  a  soldier's  voice  interrogating 
some  one,  who,  by  the  patois  of  his  answer,  I  guessed  to 
be  a  peasant. 

"  You  are  certain,  then,  we  have  not  come  wrong  ?  " 
said  the  horseman. 

"  Ah  !  I  know  the  way  too  well  for  that — travelling  it 
daylight  and  dark  since  I  was  a  boy.  I  was  born  in  the 
village  below.  We  shall  soon  reach  the  little  wooden 
bridge,  and  then,  turning  to  the  left,  beside  Martin 
Gui  chard's " 

"What  care  I  for  all  that?"  interrupted  the  other, 
roughly.  "  How  far  are  we  now  from  the  chateau  ?  Is 
it  still  a  league  off?  " 

"  Parbleu  1 — No  !  nor  the  half  of  it.  When  you  rise 
the  hill  yonder,  you'll  see  a  light ;  they  always  have  one 
burning  in  the  tourelle  there — and  that's  the  chateau." 

"Thank  Heaven  for  that!"  muttered  I;  "and  now 
only  let  me  pass  them,  and  all  is  safe." 

The  figures  before  me,  whom  I  could  now  dimly  trace 
in  the  darkness,  were  descending  step  by  step  a  rugged 
and  narrow  path,  where  a  tall  hedge  formed  a  wall  on 
either  side.  To  get  before  them  here,  therefore,  was  out 
of  the  question  ;  my  only  chance  was  by  a  detour  through 
the  fields  to  come  down  upon  the  village,  and,  if  possible, 
gain  the  bridge  he  spoke  of  before  them.  Quick  as  the 
thought,  I  turned  from  the  deep  road  to  the  still  deeper 
earth  of  the  ploughed  field  beside  it.  My  horse — a  strong 
and  powerful  Norman —needed  but  the  slightest  movement 
of  the  band  to  plunge  hotly  on.  My  eyes  bent  upon  the 
twinkle  of  the  few  lights  that  still  marked  the  little  ham- 
let, I  rode  fearlessly  forward  ;  now  tearing  madly  through 
Borne  low  osier  fence — now  slipping  in  the  wet  and  plashy 
soil,  where  each  stride  threatened  to  bring  us  both  to  the 
earth.  The  descent  became  soon  almost  precipitous  ;  but 
the  deep  ground  gave  a  footing,  and  I  never  slackened  my 
speed.  At  length,  with  a  crashing  sound,  I  found  that  we 


802  TOM   BURKE   OP    "  OURS.** 

had  burst  the  little  enclosure  of  some  village  garden,  and 
could  dimly  trace  the  outline  of  a  cottage  at  some  dis- 
tance in  front.  Dismounting  now,  I  felt  my  way  cau- 
tiously for  the  path  that  usually  conducts  at  the  end  of 
the  cabin  to  the  garden.  This  I  soon  made  out,  and  the 
next  minute  was  in  the  street.  Happily,  the  storm,  which 
raged  still  as  violently  as  before,  suffered  no  one  to  be 
without  doors ;  and  save  the  rare  glimmer  of  a  light,  all 
was  sunk  in  darkness. 

I  walked  on  beside  my  horse  for  some  minutes,  and  at 
last  I  heard  the  rushing  sound  of  a  swollen  river,  as  it 
tore  along  in  its  narrow  bed  ;  and  approaching  step  by 
step  discovered  the  little  bridge,  which  simply  consisted 
of  two  planks,  unprotected  by  any  railing  at  either  side. 
With  a  little  difficulty  I  succeeded  in  leading  my  horse 
across,  and  was  just  about  to  mount,  when  the  sound  of 
the  trooper's  voice  from  the  village  street  again  reached 
me. 

A  sudden  thought  flashed  through  my  mind.  Each 
moment  might  now  be  precious;  and  stooping  down,  I 
lifted  the  end  of  the  plank,  and  sent  it  with  a  crash  into 
the  stream;  the  other  soon  followed  it;  and  before  I  was 
in  my  saddle  again  the  torrent  was  carrying  them  along 
amid  the  rocks  of  the  stream. 

"  Here  is  a  misfortune,  **  cried  the  peasant,  in  a  tone  of 
misery  ;  "the  bridge  has  been  carried  away  by  the  flood." 

"  Tonnerre  de  del/  And  is  there  no  other  way  across  ?" 
said  the  dragoon,  in  a  voice  of  passion. 

I  waited  not  to  hear  more,  but  giving  the  spur  to  my 
horse,  dashed  up  the  steep  bank,  and  the  next  moment 
saw  the  light  of  the  chateau,  for  such  I  guessed  to  be  a 
bright  star  that  twinkled  at  a  distance.  "  Speed  now  will 
doit,"  said  I,  and  put  my  strong  Norman  to  his  utmost. 
The  wind  tore  past  me  scarce  faster  than  I  went,  while  the 
beating  rain  came  round  me.  The  footway  soon  altered, 
and  I  found  that  we  were  crossing  a  smooth  turf  like  a 
lawn.  "  Ha !  this  is  the  old  gate,"  thought  I,  as  a  tall 
archway,  overhung  with  ivy  and  closed  by  a  strong  door, 
opposed  farther  progress.  I  beat  loudly  against  it  with  the 
heavy  handle  of  my  whip,  but  to  purpose  ;  the  hoarse 
voice  of  the  storm  drowned  all  such  sounds.  I  dismounted 
and  endeavoured  to  make  myself  heard  by  knocking  with 


THE    "  CHATEAU.**  809 

a  large  stone.  I  shouted,  I  cried  aloud,  but  all  in  vain. 
My  terror  increased  every  instant.  What  was  to  be  done  ? 
The  dragoon  might  arrive  at  any  moment,  and  then  I  my- 
self must  share  the  ruin  of  the  others.  Maddened  by  the 
emergency  that  each  moment  grew  more  pressing,  I  sprang 
into  the  saddle,  and  following  the  direction  of  the  wall, 
rode  round  to  the  other  side  of  the  chateau,  seeking  some 
open  spot,  some  break  whereby  to  enter. 

1  had  not  gone  far  when  I  saw  a  portion  of  the  wall 
which,  broken  and  dilapidated,  afforded  the  opportunity  de- 
sired. I  hesitated  not,  but  dashed  wildly  at  it.  My  horse, 
unaccustomed  to  such  an  effort,  chested  the  barrier,  and 
came  rolling  head  foremost  to  the  earth,  throwing  me 
several  yards  before  him.  A  cry  of  pain  escaped  me  as  1 
fell ;  and  I  scarcely  could  gain  my  knees  to  rise,  when  the 
hoarse  bay  of  a  savage  dog  broke  upon  my  ear,  and  I 
heard  the  animal  tearing  through  the  brushwood  towards 
me.  I  drew  my  sabre  in  a  trice,  and  scarce  knowing  at 
what  side  to  defend  myself,  laid  wildly  about  me,  while  I 
shouted  with  all  my  might  for  help.  The  furious  beast 
sprang  like  a  tiger  at  my  throat,  and,  though  wounded  by 
a  chance  cut,  seized  me  in  his  terrible  fangs.  Fortunately 
the  strong  collar  of  my  uniform  served  to  protect  me ;  but 
the  violence  of  the  assault  carried  me  off  my  balance,  and 
we  rolled  one  over  the  other  to  the  ground.  Grasping  his 
throat  with  both  hands  I  endeavoured  to  strangle  him, 
while  he  vainly  sought  to  reach  my  face.  At  this  critical 
moment  my  cries  were  heard  within,  and  numerous  lights 
flit'ed  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  chateau,  and  a  crowd 
of  persons,  all  armed,  were  quickly  about  me.  Seizing 
the  dog  by  his  collar,  a  peasant  tore  him  away  ;  while 
another,  holding  a  lantern  to  my  face,  cried  out  in  a  voice 
of  terror,  "  They  are  upon  us  !  We  are  lost !" 

"  Parbku/  you  should  let  Colbert  finish  his  work — he 
is  a  '  blue :'  they  are  but  food  for  dogs  any  day." 

"Not  so,"  said  another,  in  a  low,  determined  voice; 
"  this  is  a  surer  weapon." 

I  heard  the  cock  of  a  pistol  click  as  he  spoke. 

"  Halt  there  ! — Stop,  I  say  !"  cried  a  voice,  in  a  tone  of 
command.  "  I  know  him — I  know  him  well.  It's  Burke. 
Is  it  not  ?M 

It  was  De  Beauvais  spoke,  while  at  the  same  moment  he 


804  TOM   BUEKE   OP    "  OURS.*' 

knelt  dowii  beside  me  on  the  grass,  and  put  his  arm  round 
my  neck.  I  whispered  one  word  into  his  ear.  He  sprang 
to  his  feet,  and  with  a  hasty  direction  to  assist  me  towards 
the  house,  disappeared.  Before  I  could  reach  the  door  he 
was  again  beside  me. 

"  And  you  did  this  to  save  me,  dear  friend  ?"  said  he, 
in  a  voice  half  stifled  with  sobs.  "  You  have  run  all  this 
danger  for  my  sake?" 

I  did  not  dare  to  take  the  merit  of  an  act  I  had  no  claim 
to,  still  less  to  speak  of  her  for  whose  sake  I  risked  my 
life,  and  leaned  on  him  without  speaking,  as  he  led  me 
within  the  porch. 

"  Sit  down  here  for  a  moment — but  one  moment,"  said 
he,  in  a  whisper,  "  and  I'll  return  to  you." 

I  sat  down  upon  a  bench,  and  looked  about  me.  The 
place  had  all  the  evidence  of  being  one  of  consequence  in 
former  days :  the  walls,  wainscoted  in  dark  walnut  wood, 
were  adorned  with  grotesque  carvings  of  hunting  scenes 
and  instruments  of  "  venerie ;"  the  ceiling  in  the  same 
taste,  displayed  trophies  of  weapons,  intermingled  with 
different  emblems  of  the  chasse,  while  in  the  centre,  and  en- 
closed within  a  garter,  were  the  royal  arms  of  the  Bour- 
bons :  the  gilding  that  once  shone  on  them  was  tarnished 
and  faded  ;  the  Jleur-de-li*,  too,  were  broken  and  dilapi- 
dated, while  but  a  stray  letter  of  the  proud  motto  remained, 
as  if  not  willing  to  survive  the  downfall  of  those  on  whom  it 
was  now  less  a  boast  than  a  sarcasm.  As  I  sat  thus,  the 
wide  hall  was  gradually  filled  with  men,  whose  anxious 
and  excited  faces  betokened  the  fears  my  presence  had  ex- 
cited, while  not  one  ventured  to  speak  or  address  a  word 
to  me.  Most  of  them  were  armed  with  cutlasses,  and 
some  carried  pistols  in  belts  round  their  waists ;  while 
others  had  rude  pikes,  whose  coarse  fashion  betokened  the 
handiwork  of  a  village  smith.  They  stood  in  a  semicircle 
round  me  ;  and  while  their  eyes  were  riveted  upon  me  with 
an  expression  of  most  piercing  interest,  not  a  syllable  was 
spoken.  Suddenly  a  door  was  opened  at  the  end  of  a  cor- 
ridor, and  De  Beauvais  called  out, — 

"  This  way,  Burke — come  this  way!" 


805 


CHAPTER  XXXIL 

"THE  CHATEAU  D'ANOKB." 

BEFORE  I  had  time  to  collect  myself  I  was  hurried  on  by 
De  Beauvais  into  a  room,  when,  the  moment  I  had  entered, 
the  door  was  closed  and  locked  behind  me.  By  the  light 
of  a  coarse  and  rudely-formed  chandelier  that  occupied 
the  middle  of  a  table,  I  saw  a  party  of  near  a  dozen 
persons  who  sat  around  it — the  head  of  the  board  being 
filled  by  one  whose  singular  appearance  attracted  all  my 
attention.  He  was  a  man  of  enormous  breadth  of  chest 
and  shoulders,  with  a  lofty  massive  head,  on  either  side 
of  which  a  quantity  of  red  hair  fell  in  profusion ;  a  beard 
of  the  same  colour  descended  far  on  his  bosom,  which, 
with  his  overhanging  eyebrows,  imparted  a  most  savage 
and  ferocious  expression  to  features  which  of  themselves 
were  harsh  and  repulsive.  Though  he  wore  a  blouse  in 
peasant  fashion,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he  was  not  of  the 
lower  walk  of  society.  Across  his  brawny  chest  a  broad 
belt  of  black  leather  passed,  to  support  a  strong  straight 
"  sword,  the  heavy  hilt  of  which  peeped  above  the  arm  of 
his  chair.  A  pair  of  handsomely-mounted  pistols  lay 
before  him  on  the  table ;  arid  the  carved  handle  of  a 
poniard  could  be  seen  projecting  slightly  from  the  breast- 
pocket of  his  vest.  Of  the  rest  who  were  about  him  I 
had  but  time  to  perceive  that  they  were  peasants — but  all 
were  armed,  and  most  of  them  wearing  a  knot  of  white 
ribbon  at  the  breast  of  their  blouses. 

Every  eye  was  turned  towards  me,  as  I  stood  at  the  foot 
of  the  table  astonished  and  speechless — while  De  Beauvais, 
quitting  my  arm,  hastened  to  the  large  man's  side,  and 
whispered  some  words  in  his  ear.  He  rose  slowly  from 
his  chair,  and  in  a  moment  each  face  was  turned  to  him. 
Speaking  in  a  deep  guttural  tone,  he  addressed  them  for 
some  minutes  in  a  patois  of  which  I  was  totally  ignorant 


TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

— every  word  he  uttered  seemed  to  stir  their  very  hearts, 
if  I  were  to  judge  from  the  short  and  heavy  respiration, 
the  deep-drawn  breath,  the  flushed  faces  and  staring  eyes 
around  me.  More  than  once  some  allusion  seemed  made 
to  me — at  least,  they  turned  simultaneously  to  look  at  me  ; 
once,  too,  at  something  he  said,  each  man  carried  his  hand 
round  to  his  sword-hilt,  but  dropped  it  again,  listlessly,  as 
he  continued.  The  discourse  over,  the  door  was  unlocked, 
and  one  by  one  they  left  the  room,  each  man  saluting  the 
speaker  with  a  reverence  as  he  passed  out.  De  Beauvais 
closed  the  door,  and  barred  it,  as  the  last  man  disappeared, 
and  turning  hastily  round,  called  out, — 

"What  now?" 

The  large  man  bent  his  head  down  between  his  hands, 
and  spoke  not  in  reply ;  then  suddenly  springing  up,  he 
said, — 

"  Take  my  horse  ;  he  is  fresh,  and  ready  for  the  road, 
and  make  for  Quillebceuf :  the  ford  at  Montgorge  will  be 
swollen — but  he'll  take  the  stream  for  you  ;  —  at  the 
farmer's  house,  that  looks  over  the  river,  yon  can  stop." 

"  I  know  it,  I  know  it,"  said  De  Beauvais ;  "  but  what 
of  you,  are  you  to  remain  behind  ?  " 

"  I'll  go  with  him,"  said  he,  pointing  towards  me. 
"  As  his  companion,  I  can  reach  the  Bois  de  Boulogne — 
in  any  case,  as  his  prisoner — once  there,  you  may  trust 
me  for  the  rest." 

De  Beauvais  looked  at  me  for  a  reply.  I  hesiiated 
what  to  say,  and  at  last  said,  "  For  your  sake,  Henri  de 
Beauvais,  and  yours  only,  have  I  ventured  on  a  step 
which  may,  in  all  likelihood,  be  my  ruin.  I  neither  know, 
nor  wish  to  know,  your  plans — nor  will  I  associate  myself 
with  any  one,  be  he  who  he  may,  in  your  enterprise." 

"  Jacques  Tisserand,  the  tanner,"  continued  the  large 
man,  as  if  not  heeding  nor  caring  for  my  interruption, 
"  will  warn  Armand  de  Polignac  of  what  has  happened  ; 
and  Charles  de  la  Riviere  had  better  remain  near  Biville 
for  the  English  cutter — she'll  lie  off  the  coast  to-morrow 
or  next  day.  Away — lose  not  a  moment." 

"  And  my  dear  friend  here,"  said  De  Beanvais,  turning 
to  me,  "  who  has  risked  his  very  life  to  rescue  me,  shall  I 
leave  him  thus  ?  " 

"  Can  you  save  him  by  remaining  ?  "  said  the  other,  aa 


"  THE    CHATEAU    D*ANCRE.'*  807 

he  coolly  examined  the  priming  of  his    pistols.      "  We 
shall  all  escape,  if  you  be  but  quick." 

A  look  from  De  Beauvais  drew  me  towards  him,  when 
he  threw  his  arms  around  my  neck,  and  in  a  low,  broken 
voice,  muttered,  "  When  I  tell  you  that  all  I  lived  for 
exists  to  me  no  longer — the  love  I  sought  refused  me — 
my  dearest  ambition  thwarted — you  will  not  think  that  a 
selfish  desire  for  life  prompts  me  now ;  but  a  solemn  oath 
to  obey  the  slightest  command  of  that  man,  sworn  before 
my  sovereign,  binds  me,  and  I  must  not  break  it." 

"  Away,  away  !  I  hear  voices  at  the  gate  below,"  cried 
the  other. 

"  Adieu !  adieu  for  ever,"  said  De  Beauvais,  as  he  kissed 
my  cheek,  and  sprang  through  a  small  doorway  in  the 
wainscot,  which  closed  after  him  as  he  went. 

"  Now  for  our  movements,"  said  the  large  man,  un- 
hooking a  cloak  that  hung  against  the  wall.  "  You  must 
tie  my  hands  with  this  cord  in  such  a  way  that,  although 
seemingly  secure,  I  can  free  myself  at  a  moment ;  place 
me  on  a  horse,  a  fast  one  too,  beside  you  ;  and  order  your 
troopers  to  ride  in  front  and  rear  of  us.  When  we  reach 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  leave  the  Alice  des  Chasseurs,  and 
turn  towards  St.  Cloud.  Tonnerre  de  del,  they're  firing 
yonder !  "  An  irregular  discharge  of  small-arms,  followed 
by  a  wild  cheer,  rang  out  above  the  sound  of  the  storm. 
"  Again,  did  you  hear  that  ?  there  are  the  carbines  of 
cavalry — I  know  their  ring.  Accursed,  dogs,  that  would 
not  do  my  bidding,"  cried  he,  stamping  with  passion  on 
the  ground,  while,  throwing  off  his  blouse,  he  stuck  his 
pistols  in  a  belt  around  his  waist,  and  prepared  for  mortal 
combat.  Meanwhile,  pistol-shots,  mingled  with  savage 
shouts  and  wild  hurrahs,  were  heard  approaching  nearer 
and  nearer ;  and  at  length  a  loud  knocking  at  the  front 
door,  with  a  cry  of  "  They're  here — they're  here  ! " 

The  large  man,  now  fully  armed,  and  with  his  drawn 
sword  in  his  hand,  unlocked  the  door.  The  passage 
without  was  full  of  armed  peasants,  silent  and  watchful 
for  his  commands.  A  few  words  in  the  former  patois 
seemed  sufficient  to  convey  them,  and  their  answer  was  a 
cheer  that  made  the  walls  ring. 

The  chief  moved  rapidly  from  place  to  place  through 
the  crowds,  who,  at  his  bidding,  broke  into  parties :  some 


808  TOM   BURKE    OP   "  OURS." 

of  them  occupied  doorways  which  enfiladed  the  hall — 
others  knelt  down  to  suffer  some  to  fire  above  their  heads'; 
here  were  two  posted,  armed  with  hatchets,  at  the  very 
entrance  itself;  and  six  of  the  most  determined-looking 
were  to  dispute  the  passage  with  their  muskets.  Such 
was  the  disposition  of  the  force,  when  suddenly  the  light 
was  extinguished,  and  all  left  in  utter  darkness — the  deep 
breathing  of  their  anxious  breasts  alone  marked  their  pre- 
sence— when,  without  doors,  the  sounds  of  strife  gradually 
died  away,  and  the  storm  alone  was  heard. 

As  for  me,  I  leaned  against  a  doorway,  my  arms  folded 
on  my  bosom,  my  head  sunk,  while  I  prayed  for  death, 
the  only  exit  I  could  see  to  my  dishonour. 

There  was  a  terrible  pause — the  very  hurricane  seemed 
to  abate  its  violence,  and  only  the  heavy  rain  was  heard 
as  it  fell  in  torrents — when,  with  a  loud  crash,  the  door  in 
front  was  burst  open,  and  fell  with  a  bang  upon  the  floor 
— not  a  word  from  those  within,  not  a  motion  betrayed 
their  presence,  while  the  whispered  tones  of  a  party  without 
showed  that  the  enemy  was  there.  "  Bring  up  the  torches 
quickly  here,"  called  out  a  voice  like  that  of  an  officer ; 
and  as  he  spoke  the  red  flare  of  lighted  pine  branches 
was  seen  moving  through  the  misty  atmosphere.  The 
light  fell  upon  a  strong  party  of  dismounted  dragoons  and 
gendarmerie,  who,  carbine  in  hand,  stood  waiting  for  the 
word  to  dash  forward.  The  officer,  whose  figure  I  could 
distinguish  as  he  moved  along  the  front  of  his  men,  ap- 
peared to  hesitate,  and  for  a  few  seconds  all  stood  motion- 
less. At  length,  as  if  having  resolved  on  his  plan,  he 
approached  the  doorway,  a  pine  torch  in  his  hand — another 
step,  and  the  light  must  have  disclosed  the  dense  array  of 
armed  peasants  that  stood  and  knelt  around  the  hall — 
when  a  deep  low  voice  within  uttered  the  one  word, 
"  Now ! "  and  quick,  as  if  by  his  breath  the  powder  had 
been  ignited,  a  voliej  rang  out,  pattering  like  hail  on  the 
steel  breastplates,  and  through  the  branches  of  the  trees ; 
a  mingled  shout  of  rage  and  agony  rose  from  those  without, 
and,  without  waiting  for  a  command,  they  rushed  onward. 
The  peasants,  who  had  not  time  to  reload  their  pieces, 
clubbed  them  in  their  strong  hands,  and  laid  wildly  about 
them.  The  fight  was  now  hand  to  hand ;  for,  narrow  as 
was  the  doorway,  some  three  or  four  dragoons  pressed 


"  THE   CHATEAU   D'ANORE.'*  809 

every  moment  in,  and  gradually  the  hall  became  a  dense 
mass  of  indiscriminate  combatants.  The  large  man  fought 
like  one  possessed,  and  cleft  his  way  towards  the  entrance 
with  a  long  straight  dagger,  as  if  regardless  of  friends  or 
foes.  "  A  moi  I  a  moi  /"  cried  a  tall  and  powerful  man,  as 
he  sprang  at  his  throat ;  "  this  is  he."  The  words  were 
his  last,  as,  stabbed  to  the  very  heart,  he  sprang  backward 
in  his  death-agony ;  but  at  the  moment  a  perfect  shower 
of  bullets  rattled  around  the  large  man,  one  of  which  alone 
took  effect  in  his  shoulder.  Still  he  strove  onwards,  and 
at  last,  with  a  spring  like  a  savage  tiger,  he  lowered  his 
head,  and  bounded  clean  out  into  the  court.  Scarcely, 
however,  had  his  foot  touched  the  wet  grass,  when  he 
slipped  forward,  and  fell  heavily  on  his  back.  A  dozen 
swords  flashed  above  him  as  he  lay,  and  only  by  the  most 
immense  efforts  of  the  officer  was  he  spared  death  in  a 
hundred  wounds.  The  defeat  of  their  leader  seemed  to 
subdue  all  the  daring  courage  of  his  party ;  the  few  who 
were  able  to  escape  dashed  hither  and  thither,  through 
passages  and  doorways  they  were  well  acquainted  with ; 
while  the  flagged  floor  was  bathed  in  blood  from  the  rest, 
as  they  lay  in  mangled  and  frightful  forms,  dead  and 
dying  on  every  side. 

Like  one  in  some  dreadful  dream,  I  stood  spectator  of 
this  savage  strife,  wishing  that  some  stray  bullet  had 
found  my  heart,  yet  ashamed  to  die  with  such  a  stain 
upon  my  honour.  I  crossed  my  arms  before  my  breast, 
and  waited  for  my  doom.  Two  gendarmes  passed  quickly 
to  and  fro  with  torches,  examining  the  faces  and  looks  of 
those  who  were  still  likely  to  live,  when  suddenly  one  of 
them  cried  out,  as  he  stood  before  me, — 

"  What's  this  ?    An  officer  of  hussars  here !  " 

The  exclamation  brought  an  officer  to  the  spot,  who, 
holding  a  lantern  to  my  face,  said  quickly, — 

"  How  is  this,  sir  ? — how  came  you  here  ?  " 

"  Here  is  my  sword,  sir,"  said  I,  drawing  it  from  the 
scabbard.  "  I  place  myself  under  arrest.  In  another 
place,  and  to  other  judges,  I  must  explain  my  conduct.'' 

"  Parbleu  t  Jacques,"  said  the  officer,  addressing  another 
who  sat,  while  his  wounds  were  being  bound  up,  on  a 
chair  near,  "  this  affair  is  worse  than  we  thought  ofc 
Here's  one  of  the  huitiime  in  the  thick  of  it." 

Vol.  28— (11) 


810  TOM   BURKE   OP   "  OURS." 

"  I  hope,  sir,"  said  I,  addressing  the  young  man,  whose 
arm  was  bleeding  profusely  from  a  sabre  wound — "  I  hope, 
sir,  your  wound  may  not  be  of  consequence." 

He  looked  up  suddenly,  and,  while  a  smile  of  the  most 
insulting  sarcasm  curled  his  bloodless  lip,  answered, — 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,  for  your  sympathy ;  but  you  must 
forgive  me  if,  one  of  these  days,  I  cannot  bandy  consola 
tions  with  you." 

"  You  are  right,  lieutenant,"  said  a  dragoon,  who  lay  bleed- 
ing from  a  dreadful  cut  in  the  forehead.  "  I'd  not  exchange 
places  with  him  myself  this  minute  for  all  his  epaulettes." 

With  an  overwhelming  sense  of  my  own  degraded  posi- 
tion, when  to  such  taunts  as  these  I  dared  not  reply,  I  stood 
mute  and  confounded.  Meantime  the  soldiers  were  en- 
gaged in  collecting  together  the  scattered  weapons,  fasten- 
ing the  wrists  of  the  prisoners  with  cords,  and  ransacking 
the  house  for  such  proofs  of  the  conspiracy  as  might 
criminate  others  at  a  distance.  By  the  time  these  opera- 
tions were  concluded,  the  day  began  to  break,  and  I  could 
distinguish  in  the  courtyard  several  large  covered  carts  or 
charrettes  destined  to  convey  the  prisoners.  One  of  these 
was  given  up  entirely  to  the  chief,  who,  although  only 
slightly  wounded,  would  never  assist  himself  in  the  least, 
but  lay  a  heavy,  inert  mass,  suffering  the  others  to  lift  him 
and  place  him  in  the  cart.  Suck  as  were  too  badly  wounded 
to  be  moved  were  placed  in  a  room  in  the  chateau,  a  guard 
being  left  over  them. 

A  sergeant  of  the  gendarmerie  now  approached  me  as  I 
stood,  and  commenced,  without  a  word,  to  examine  me  for 
any  papers  or  documents  that  might  be  concealed  about 
my  person. 

"  You  are  in  error,"  said  I,  quietly.  "  I  have  nothing 
of  what  you  suspect." 

"  Do  you  call  this  nothing  ?  "  interrupted  he,  triumph- 
antly, as  he  drew  forth  the  parchment  commission  I  had 
placed  in  my  bosom,  and  forgot  to  restore  to  De  Beauvais. 
"  Parbku  /  you'd  have  had  a  better  memory  had  your  plans 
succeeded." 

"  Give  it  here,"  said  an  officer,  as  he  saw  the  sergeant 
devouring  the  document  with  his  eyes.  "  Ah  !"  cried  he, 
starting,  "  he  was  playing  a  high  stake,  too.  Let  him  be 
closely  secured." 


"THE  CHATEAU  D'ANCEB."  811 

While  the  orders  of  the  officer  were  being  followed  up, 
the  various  prisoners  were  secured  in  the  carts,  mounted 
dragoons  stationed  at  either  side,  their  carbines  held  un- 
slung  in  their  hands.  At  last  my  turn  came,  and  I  was 
ordered  to  mount  into  a  charrette  with  two  gendarmes, 
whose  orders  respecting  any  effort  at  escape  on  my  part 
were  pretty  clearly  indicated  by  the  position  of  two  pistols 
carried  at  either  side  of  me. 

A  day  of  heavy,  unremitting  rain,  without  any  wind  or 
Kiorm,  succeeded  to  the  night  of  tempest.  Dark  inky 
clouds  lay  motionless  near  the  earth,  whose  surface  became 
blacker  by  the  shadow.  A  weighty  and  louring  atmo- 
sphere added  to  the  gloom  I  felt ;  and  neither  in  my  heart 
within,  nor  in  the  world  without,  could  I  find  one  solitary 
consolation. 

At  first  I  dreaded  lest  my  companions  should  address 
me — a  single  question  would  have  wrung  my  very  soul — 
but  happily  they  maintained  a  rigid  silence,  nor  did  they 
even  speak  to  each  other  during  the  entire  journey.  At 
noon  we  halted  at  a  small  roadside  cabaret,  where  refresh- 
ments were  provided,  and  relays  of  horses  in  waiting,  and 
again  set  out  on  our  way.  The  day  was  declining  when 
we  reached  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  entered  the  long 
avenue  that  leads  to  the  Barriere  de  1'Etoile.  The  heavy 
wheels  moved  noiselessly  over  the  even  turf;  and,  save  the 
jingle  of  the  troopers'  equipments,  all  was  hushed.  For 
above  an  hour  we  had  proceeded  thus,  when  a  loud  shout 
in  front,  followed  by  a  pistol-shot,  and  then  three  or  four 
others  quickly  after  it,  halted  the  party  ;  and  I  could  mark 
through  the  uncertain  light  the  mounted  figures  dashing 
wildly  here  and  there,  and  plunging  into  the  thickest  of 
the  wood. 

"  Look  to  the  prisoners,"  cried  an  officer,  as  he  galloped 
down  the  line  ;  and,  at  the  word,  every  man  seized  his 
carbine,  and  held  himself  on  the  alert.  Meanwhile  the 
whole  cavalcade  was  halted,  and  I  could  see  that  something 
of  consequence  had  occurred  in  front,  though  of  what 
nature  I  could  not  even  guess.  At  last  a  sergeant  of  the 
gendarmes  rode  up  to  our  side  splashed  and  heated. 

"  Has  he  escaped  ?  "  cried  one  of  the  men  beside  me. 

"  Yes !  "  said  he,  with  an  oath,  "  the  brigand  has  got 
away,  though  how  he  out  the  cords  on  his  wrists,  or  by 


812  TOM  BURKE  OP  "  OUES." 

what  means  he  sprang  from  the  charreffe  to  the  road,  the 
devil  must  answer.  Ha  !  there  they  are  firing  away  after 
him.  The  only  use  of  their  powder  is  to  show  the  fellow 
•where  they  are." 

"  I  would  not  change  places  with  our  captain  this  even- 
ing," cried  one  of  the  gendarmerie.  "  Returning  to  Paris 
without  the  red  beard " 

"  Ma  foi,  you're  not  wrong  there.  It  will  be  a  heavy 
reckoning  for  him  with  dark  Savary ;  and  as  to  taking  a 
Breton  in  a  wood " 

The  word  to  march  interrupted  the  colloquy,  and  again 
we  moved  forward. 

By  some  strange  sympathy  I  cannot  account  for,  I  felt 
glad  that  the  chief  had  made  his  escape.  The  gallantry  of 
his  defence,  the  implicit  obedience  yielded  him  by  the 
others,  had  succeeded  in  establishing  an  interest  for  him 
in  my  mind ;  and  the  very  last  act  of  daring  courage  by 
which  he  effected  his  liberty  increased  the  feeling.  By 
what  an  easy  transition,  too,  do  we  come  to  feel  for  those 
whose  fate  has  any  similarity  with  our  own  1  The  very 
circumstance  of  common  misfortune  is  a  binding  link;  and 
thus  I  was  not  without  an  anxious  hope  that  the  chief 
might  succeed  in  his  escape,  though,  had  I  known  his 
intrigue  or  his  intentions,  such  interest  had  scarcely  found 
a  place  in  my  heart. 

Such  reflections  as  these  led  me  to  think  how  great  must 
be  the  charm  to  the  human  mind  of  overcoming  difficulty 
or  confronting  danger,  when  even  for  those  of  whom  we 
know  nothing  we  can  feel,  and  feel  warmly,  when  they 
stand  before  us  in  such  a  light  as  this.  Heroism  and 
bravery  appeal  to  every  nature ;  and  bad  must  be  the  cause 
in  which  they  are  exerted,  before  we  can  venture  to  think 
ill  of  those  who  possess  them. 

The  lamps  were  beginning  to  be  lighted  as  we  reached 
the  Barriere,  and  halted  to  permit  the  officer  of  the  party 
to  make  his  report  of  who  we  were.  The  formality  soon 
finished,  we  defiled  along  the  Boulevard,  followed  by  a 
crowd  that,  increasing  each  moment,  at  last  occupied  the 
entire  road,  and  made  our  progress  slow  and  difficult. 
While  the  curiosity  of  the  people  to  catch  sight  of  the 
prisoners  demanded  all  the  vigilance  of  the  guards  to  pre- 
vent it,  a  sad  and  most  appalling  stillness  pervaded  the 


"THE  CHATEAU  D'ANCRE.**  818 

whole  multitude,  and  I  could  hear  a  murmur  as  they  went, 
that  it  was  Generals  Moreau  and  Pichegru  who  were  taken. 
At  length  we  halted,  and  I  could  see  that  the  foremost 
charretie  was  entering  a  low  archway,  over  which  a  massive 
portcullis  hung.  The  gloomy  shadow  of  a  dark,  vast  mass, 
that  rose  against  the  inky  sky,  loured  above  the  wall,  and, 
somehow,  seemed  to  me  as  if  well  known. 

"  This  is  the '  Temple '  ?  "  said  I  to  the  gendarme  on  my 
right. 

A  nod  was  the  reply,  and  a  half  expressive  look  that 
seemed  to  say, "  In  that  word  you  have  said  your  destiny." 

About  two  years  previous  to  the  time  I  now  speak  of,  I 
remember  one  evening,  when  returning  from  a  solitary 
walk  along  the  Boulevard,  stopping  in  front  of  a  tall  and 
weather-beaten  tower,  the  walls  black  with  age,  and 
pierced  here  and  there  with  narrow  windows,  across 
which  strong  iron  stanchions  ran  transversely.  A  gloomy 
fosse,  crossed  by  a  narrow  drawbridge,  surrounded  the 
external  wall  of  this  dreary  building,  which  needed  no 
superstition  to  invest  it  with  a  character  of  crime  and 
misfortune.  This  was  the  Temple  ;  the  ancient  castle  of 
the  knights  whose  cruelties  were  written  in  the  dark 
oubliettes  and  the  noisome  dungeons  of  that  dread  abode. 
A  terrace  ran  along  the  tower  on  three  sides.  There,  for 
hours  long,  walked  in  sadness  and  in  sorrow  the  last  of 
France's  kings,  Louis  XVI.,  his  children  at  his  side.  In 
that  dark  turret  the  Dauphin  suffered  death.  At  the  low 
casement  yonder,  Madame  Boy  ale  sat  hour  by  hour,  the 
stone  on  which  she  leaned  wet  with  her  tears.  The  place 
was  one  of  gloomy  and  sinister  repute :  the  neighbour- 
hood spoke  of  the  heavy  roll  of  carriages  that  passed  the 
drawbridge  at  the  dead  of  night,  of  strange  sounds  and 
cries,  of  secret  executions,  and  even  of  tortures  that 
were  inflicted  there.  Of  these  dreadful  missions  a  corps 
called  the  "  Gendarmes  d'elite "  were  vulgarly  supposed 
the  chosen  executors,  and  their  savage  looks  and  repul- 
sive exterior  gave  credibility  to  the  surmise,  while  some 
affirmed  that  the  Mameluke  Guard  the  Consul  had  brought 
with  him  from  Egypt  had  no  other  function  than  the 
murder  of  the  prisoners  confined  there. 

Little  thought  I  then,  that  in  a  few  brief  months  I 
should  pass  beneath  that  black  portcullis  a  prisoner.  Little 


314  TOM   BUEKB   OP   "  OURS." 

did  I  anticipate,  as  I  wended  my  homeward  way,  my  heart 
heavy  and  my  step  slow,  that  the  day  was  to  come  when, 
in  my  own  person,  I  was  to  feel  the  sorrows  over  which  [ 
then  wept  for  others. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE  "TEMPLE." 

THIS  was  the  second  morning  of  my  life  which  openert 
in  the  narrow  cell  of  a  prison ;  and  when  I  awoke  and 
looked  upon  the  bare,  bleak  walls,  the  barred  window,  the 
strongly  bolted  door,  I  thought  of  the  time  when,  as  a 
boy,  I  slept  within  the  walls  of  Newgate.  The  same  sad 
sounds  were  now  about  me ;  the  measured  tread  of  sen- 
tinels ;  the  tramp  of  patrols ;  the  cavernous  clank  of  door- 
closing,  and  the  grating  noise  of  locking  and  unlocking 
heavy  gates,  and  then  that  dreary  silence,  more  depressing 
than  all,  how  they  came  back  upon  me  now,  seeming  to 
wipe  out  all  space,  and  bring  me  to  the  hours  of  my  boy- 
hood's trials.  Yet  what  were  they  to  this  ? — what  were 
the  dangers  I  then  incurred  to  the  inevitable  ruin  now 
before  me?  True,  I  knew  neither  the  conspirators  nor 
their  crime;  but  who  would  believe  it?  How  came 
I  among  them  ?  Dare  I  tell  it,  and  betray  her  whose 
honour  was  dearer  to  me  than  my  life  ?  Yet  it  was 
hard  to  face  death  in  such  a  cause ;  no  sense  of  high 
though  unsuccessful  daring  to  support  me  ;  no  strongly- 
roused  passion  to  warm  my  blood,  and  teach  me  bravely 
to  endure  a  tarnished  name.  Disgrace  and  dishonour 
were  all  my  portion — in  that  land,  too,  where  I  once  hoped 
to  win  fame  and  glory,  and  make  for  myself  a  reputation 
among  the  first  and  greatest.  The  deep  roll  of  a  drum, 
followed  by  the  harsh  turning  of  keys  in  the  locks  along 


THE    "  TEMPLE.**  815 

the  corridor,  interrupted  my  sad  musings ;  and  the  next 
minute  my  door  was  unbolted,  and  an  official,  dressed  in 
the  uniform  of  the  prison,  presented  himself  before  me. 

"  Ah !  monsieur,  awake  and  dressed  already  !  "  said  he, 
in  a  gay  and  smiling  tone,  for  which  the  place  had  not 
prepared  me.  "  At  eight  we  breakfast  here  ;  at  nine  you 
are  free  to  promenade  in  the  garden  or  on  the  terrace — at 
least,  all  who  are  not  au  secret ;  and  I  have  to  felicitate 
monsieur  on  that  pleasure." 

"  How,  then  ;  I  am  not  a  prisoner  ?  " 

"  Yes,  parbleul  you  are  a  prisoner,  but  not  under  such 
heavy  imputation  as  to  be  confined  apart.  All  in  this 
quarter  enjoy  a  fair  share  of  liberty:  live  together,  walk, 
chat,  read  the  papers,  and  have  an  easy  time  of  it ;  but 
you  shall  judge  for  yourself.  Come  along  with  me." 

In  a  strange  state  of  mingled  hope  and  fear  I  followed 
the  gaoler  along  the  corridor,  and  across  a  paved  court- 
yard into  a  low  hall,  where  basins  and  other  requisites  for 
a  prison  toilet  were  arranged  around  the  walls.  Passing 
through  this,  we  ascended  a  narrow  stair,  and  finally 
entered  a  large,  well-lighted  room,  along  which  a  table, 
plentifully  but  plainly  provided,  extended  the  entire  length. 
The  apartment  was  crowded  with  persons  of  every  age, 
anti  apparently  every  condition,  all  conversing  noisily  and 
eagerly  together,  and  evidencing  as  little  seeming  restraint 
as  though  within  the  walls  of  a  cafe. 

Seated  at  a  table,  I  could  not  help  feeling  amused  at  the 
strange  medley  of  rank  and  country  about  me.  Here 
were  old  milifaires,  with  bushy  beards  and  moustaches, 
side  by  side  with  ruddy-faced  peasants,  whose  long, 
yellow  locks  bespoke  them  of  Norman  blood  ;  hard, 
weather-beaten  sailors  from  the  coast  of  Bretagne,  talking 
familiarly  with  venerable  seigneurs  in  all  the  pomp  of 
powder  and  a  queue  ;  priests  with  shaven  crowns  ;  young 
fellows,  whose  easy  looks  of  unabashed  effrontery  betrayed 
the  careless  Parisian ;  all  were  mingled  up  together,  and 
yet  not  one  among  the  number  did  I  see  whose  appearance 
denoted  sorrow  for  his  condition  or  anxiety  for  his  fate. 

The  various  circumstances  of  their  imprisonment,  the 
imputation  they  lay  under,  the  acts  of  which  they  were 
accused,  formed  the  topics  of  conversation  in  common 
with  the  gossip  of  the  town,  the  news  of  the  theatres,  and 


816  TOM    BURKE    OP   "  OURS." 

the  movements  in  political  life.  Never  was  there  a  society 
with  less  restraint ;  each  man  knew  his  neighbour's 
history  too  well  to  make  concealment  of  any  value,  and 
frankness  seemed  the  order  of  the  day.  While  I  was 
initiating  myself  into  so  much  of  the  habit  of  the  place, 
a  large,  flat,  florid  personage,  who  sat  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  called  out  to  me  for  my  name. 

"  The  governor  desires  to  have  your  name  and  rank  for 
his  list,"  said  my  neighbour  at  the  right  hand. 

Having  given  the  required  information,  I  could  not 
help  expressing  my  surprise  how,  in  the  presence  of  the 
governor  of  the  prison,  they  ventured  to  speak  so  freely. 

"  Ha,"  said  the  person  I  addressed,  "  he  is  not  the 
governor  of  the  Temple;  that's  merely  a  title  we  have 
given  him  among  ourselves.  The  office  is  held  always  by 
the  oldest  detenu.  Now,  he  has  been  here  ten  months, 
and  succeeded  to  the  throne  about  a  fortnight  since.  The 
abbe  yonder,  with  the  silk  scarf  round  his  waist,  will  be 
his  successor  in  a  few  days." 

"  Indeed  !  Then  he  will  be  at  liberty  so  soon.  I  thought 
he  seemed  in  excellent  spirits." 

"  Not  much,  perhaps,  on  'that  score,"  replied  he.  "  His 
sentence  is  hard  labour  for  life  at  the  Bagne  de  Toulon." 

I  started  back  with  horror,  and  could  not  utter  a  word. 

"  The  abbe*,"  continued  my  informant,  "  would  be  right 
happy  to  take  his  sentence.  But  the  governor  is  speaking 
to  you." 

"  Monsieur  le  sous-lieutenant,"  said  the  governor,  in  a 
deep,  solemn  accent,  "  I  have  the  honour  to  salute  you, 
and  bid  you  welcome  to  the  Temple,  in  the  name  of  my 
respectable  and  valued  friends  here  about  me.  We  rejoice 
to  possess  one  of  your  cloth  amongst  us.  The  last  was, 
if  I  remember  aright,  the  Captain  de  Lorme,  who  boasted 
he  could  hit  the  Consul  at  sixty  paces  with  a  pistol- 
bullet." 

"  Pardon,  governor,"  said  a  handsome  man  in  a  braided 
frock  ;  "  we  had  Ducaisne  since." 

"  So  we  had,  commandant,"  said  the  governor,  bowing 
politely,  "  and  a  very  pleasant  fellow  he  was ;  but  he  only 
stopped  one  night  here." 

"  A  single  night,  I  remember  it  well,"  grunted  out  a 
thick-lipped,  rosy-faced  little  fellow,  near  the  bottom  of 


THE  "TEMPLE.*  817 

the  table.  "You'll  meet  him  soon,  governor;  he's  at 
Toulon.  Pray  present  my  respects " 

"  A  fine !  a  fine !  "  shouted  out  a  dozen  voices  in  a 
breath. 

"  I  deny  it,  I  deny  it,"  replied  the  rosy-faced  man, 
rising  from  his  chair.  "  I  appeal  to  the  governor  if  I  am 
not  innocent.  I  ask  him  if  there  were  anything  which 
could  possibly  offend  his  feelings  in  my  allusion  to  Toulon, 
whither  for  the  benefit  of  his  precious  health,  he  is  about 
to  repair." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  governor,  solemnly,  "  you  are  fined 
three  francs.  I  always  preferred  Brest ;  Toulon  is  not  to 
my  taste." 

"  Pay !  pay !  "  cried  out  the  others ;  while  a  pewter 
dish,  on  which  some  twenty  pieces  of  money  were  lying, 
was  passed  down  the  table. 

"And  to  resume,"  said  the  governor,  turning  towards 
me,  "  the  secretary  will  wait  on  you  after  breakfast  to 
receive  the  fees  of  initiation,  and  such  information  as  you 
desire  to  afford  him  for  your  coming  amongst  us,  both 
being  perfectly  discretionary  with  you.  He  who  desires 
the  privilege  of  our  amicable  reunion  soon  learns  the 
conditions  on  which  to  obtain  it.  The  enjoyments  of  our 
existence  here  are  cheap  at  any  price.  Le  Pere  d'OIigny, 
yonder,  will  tell  you  life  is  short — very  few  here  are 
likely  to  dispute  the  assertion — and  perhaps  the  Abbe" 
Thomas  may  give  you  a  strong  hint  how  to  make  the  best 
of  it." 

"  Purlieu,  governor  1  you -forget  the  abbe  left  us  this 
morning." 

"  True,  true — how  my  memory  is  failing  me — the  dear 
abbe  did  leave  us,  sure  enough." 

"  Where  for?  "  said  I,  in  a  whisper. 

"  La  Plaine  de  Grenelle,"  said  the  person  beside  me,  in 
alow  tone.  "  He  was  guillotined  at  five  o'clock." 

A  sick  shudder  ran  through  me ;  and,  though  the 
governor  continued  his  oration,  I  heard  not  a  word  he 
spoke,  nor  could  I  arouse  myself  from  the  stupor  until  the 
cheers  of  the  party,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  harangue, 
awoke  me. 

"  The  morning  looks  fine  enough  for  a  walk,"  said  the 
man  beside  me.  "  What  say  you  to  the  gardens  ?  " 


818  TOM   BURKE   OP   "  OTJBS." 

I  followed  him  without  speaking  across  the  court  and 
down  a  flight  of  stone  steps  into  a  large  open  space, 
planted  tastefully  with  trees,  and  adorned  by  a  beautiful 
fountain.  Various  walks  and  alleys  traversed  the  garden 
in  every  direction,  along  which  parties  were  to  be  seen 
walking — some  laughing,  some  reading  aloud  the  morning 
papers — but  all  engaged,  and,  to  all  seeming,  pleasantly. 
Yet  did  their  reckless  indifference  to  life,  their  horrible 
carelessness  of  each  other's  fate,  seem  to  me  far  more 
dreadful  than  any  expression  of  sorrow,  however  painful ; 
and  I  shrank  from  them  as  though  the  contamination  of 
their  society  might  impart  that  terrible  state  of  unfeeling 
apathy  they  were  given  up  to.  Even  guilt  itself  had 
seemed  less  repulsive  than  this  shocking  and  unnatural 
recklessness.  Pondering  thus,  I  hurried  from  the  crowded 
path,  and  sought  a  lonely,  unfrequented  walk  which  led 
along  the  wall  of  the  garden.  I  had  not  proceeded  far, 
when  the  low  but  solemn  notes  of  church  music  struck  on 
my  ear.  I  hastened  forward,  and  soon  perceived,  through 
the  branches  of  a  beech  hedge,  a  party  of  some  sixteen  or 
eighteen  persons  kneeling  on  the  grass,  their  hands  lifted 
as  if  in  prayer,  while  they  joined  in  a  psalm  tune — one  of 
those  simple  but  touching  airs  which  the  peasantry  of  the 
south  are  so  attached  to.  Their  oval  faces  bronzed  with 
the  sun,  their  long,  flowing  hair,  divided  on  the  head  and 
falling  loose  on  either  shoulder,  their  dark  eyes  and  long 
lashes,  bespoke  them  all  from  that  land  of  Bourbon  loyalty, 
La  Vendee,  even  had  not  their  yellow  jackets,  covered 
with  buttons  along  the  sleeves,  and  their  Joose  hose, 
evinced  their  nationality.  Many  of  the  countenances  I 
now  remembered  to  have  seen  the  preceding  night ;  but 
some  were  careworn  and  emaciated,  as  if  from  long  im- 
prisonment. 

I  cannot  tell  how  the  simple  piety  of  these  poor  peasants 
touched  me,  contrasted,  too,  with  the  horrible  indifference 
of  the  others.  As  I  approached  them,  I  was  recognized  j 
and,  whether  supposing  that  I  was  a  well-wisher  to  their 
cause,  or  attracted  merely  by  the  tie  of  common  misfor- 
tune, they  saluted  me  respectfully,  and  seemed  glad  to  see 
me.  While  two  or  three  of  those  I  had  seen  before  moved 
forward  to  speak  to  me,  I  remarked  that  a  low,  swarthy 
man,  with  a  scar  across  his  upper  lip,  examined  me  with 


THE    "  TEMPLE."  819 

marked  attention,  and  then  whispered  something  to  the 
rest.  At  first  he  seemed  to  pay  little  respect  to  whatever 
they  said — an  incredulous  shake  of  the  head,  or  an  impa- 
tient motion  of  the  hand,  replying  to  their  observations. 
Gradually,  however,  he  relaxed  in  this,  and  I  could  see 
that  his  stern  features  assumed  a  look  of  kinder  meaning. 

"  So,  friend,"  said  he,  holding  out  his  tanned  and 
powerful  hand  towards  me,  "  it  was  thou  saved  our  chief 
from  being  snared  like  a  wolf  in  a  trap.  Le  ban  Dieit 
will  remember  the  service  hereafter;  and  the  good  king 
will  not  forget  thee,  if  the  time  ever  comes  for  his  better 
fortune." 

*'  You  must  not  thank  me,"  said  I,  smiling ;  "  the  ser- 
vice I  rendered  was  one  instigated  by  friendship  only.  1 
know  not  your  plans ;  I  never  knew  them.  The  epaulette 
I  wear  I  never  was  false  to." 

A  murmur  of  dissatisfaction  ran  along  the  party,  and  I 
could  mark  that  in  the  words  they  interchanged  feelings 
of  surprise  were  mingled  with  displeasure.  At  last,  the 
short  man,  commanding  silence  with  a  slight  motion  of 
the  hand,  said,  "  I  am  sorry  for  it ;  your  courage  merited 
a  better  cause ;  however,  the  avowal  was  at  least  an  honest 
one  ;  and  now  tell  us,  why  came  you  here  ?  " 

"  For  the  very  reason  I've  mentioned.  My  presence  at 
the  chateau  last  night,  and  my  discovery  during  the  attack, 
were  enough  to  impute  guilt.  How  can  I  clear  myself, 
without  criminating  those  I  would  not  name  ?  " 

"  That  matters  but  little.  Doubtless,  you  have  powerful 
friends — rich  ones,  perhaps,  and  in  office;  they  will  bear 
you  harmless." 

"  Alas !  you  are  wrong.  I  have  not  in  all  the  length 
and  breadth  of  France  one  who,  if  a  word  would  save  me 
from  the  scaffold,  would  care  to  speak  it.  I  am  a  stranger 
and  an  alien." 

"  Ha ! "  said  a  fair-haired,  handsome  youth,  starting 
from  the  grass  where  he  had  been  sitting,  "  what  would  I 
not  give  now,  if  your  lot  was  mine.  They'd  not  make  my 
heart  tremble  if  1  could  forget  the  cabin  I  was  born  in." 

"  Hush!  Philippe,"  said  the  other,  "  the  weapon  is  not 

in  their  armoury  to  make  a  Yendean  tremble But, 

bark !  there  is  the  drum  for  the  inspection.  You  must 
present  yourself  each  day  at  n,oqn,  at  the  lovy  postern. 


820  TOM  BURKE   OP   "  OURS.** 

yonder,  and  write  your  name ;  and  mark  me,  before  we 
part,  it  cannot  serve  us,  it  may  ruin  you,  if  we  are  seen  to 
speak  together.  Trust  no  one  here.  Those  whom  you 
see  yonder  are  half  of  them  moutons." 

"  How  ?  "  said  I,  not  understanding  the  phrase. 

"  Ay,  it  was  a  prison  word  I  used,"  resumed  he.  "  I 
would  say  they  are  but  spies  of  the  police,  who,  as  if  con- 
fined for  their  offences,  are  only  here  to  obtain  confes- 
sions from  unguarded,  unsuspecting  prisoners.  Their 
frankness  and  sincerity  are  snares  that  have  led  many  to 
the  guillotine :  beware  of  them.  You  dare  not  carry  your 
glass  to  your  lip,  but  the  murmured  toast  might  be  your 
condemnation.  Adieu!"  said  he,  and  as  he  spoke  he 
turned  away  and  left  the  place,  followed  by  the  rest. 

The  disgust  I  felt  at  first  for  the  others  was  certainly 
not  lessened  by  learning  that  their  guilt  was  stained  by 
treachery  the  blackest  that  can  disgrace  humanity ;  and 
now,  as  I  walked  among  them,  it  was  with  a  sense  of 
shrinking  horror  I  recoiled  from  the  very  touch  of  the 
wretches  whose  smiles  were  but  lures  to  the  scaffold. 

"  Ha!  our  lost  and  strayed  friend,"  said  one,  as  I 
appeared,  "  come  hither  and  make  a  clean  breast  of  it. 
What  amiable  weaknesses  have  introduced  you  to  the 
Temple?" 

"  In  truth,"  said  I,  endeavouring  to  conceal  my  know- 
ledge of  my  acquaintances'  real  character,  "  I  cannot 
even  guess,  nor  do  I  believe  that  any  one  else  is  wiser 
than  myself." 

"  Pwbleuf  young  gentleman,"  said  the  abbe,  as  he 
spied  me  impertinently  through  his  glass,  "  yon  are  exces- 
sively old-fashioned  for  your  years.  Don't  you  know 
that  spotless  innocence  went  out  with  the  Bourbons  ? 
Every  one  since  that  dies  in  the  glorious  assertion  of  his 
ipeculiar  wickedness,  with  certain  extenuating  circum- 
stances, which  he  calls  human  nature." 

"  And  now,  then,"  resumed  the  first  speaker,  "  for 
your  mishap — what  was  it  ?  " 

"  I  should  only  deceive  you  were  I  to  give  any  other 
answer  than  my  first.  Mere  suspicion  there  may  be 
against  me — there  can  be  no  more." 

"  Well,  well,  let  us  have  the  suspicions.  The  Moniteur 
jg  late  this  morning,  and  we  have  nothing  to  amuse  U8." 


THE  "TEMPLE.**  821 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  cried  another,  a  tall,  insolent-look- 
ing fellow,  with  a  dark  moustache.  "  That's  the  first 
question.  I've  seen  a  mouton  in  a  hussar  dress  before 
now." 

"  I  am  too  late  a  resident  here,"  answered  I,  "  to  guess 
how  far  insolence  goes  unpunished;  but  if  I  were  out- 
side these  walls,  and  you  also,  I'd  teach  you  a  lesson  you 
have  yet  to  learn,  sir." 

"  Parlleu/"  said  one  of  the  former  speakers,  "  Jacques, 
he  has  you  there,  though  it  was  no  great  sharpness  to 
see  you  were  a  blanc-bec." 

The  tall  fellow  moved  away,  muttering  to  himself,  as  a 
hearty  laugh  broke  forth  among  the  rest. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  abb6,  with  a  simper,  "  pardon 
the  liberty;  but  have  yon  had  any  trifling  inducement 
for  coming  to  pass  a  few  days  here  ?  Were  you  making 
love  to  Madame  la  Consulesse  ?  or  did  you  laugh  at 
General  Bonaparte's  grand  dinners  ?  or  have  you  been 
learning  the  English  grammar  ?  or  what  is  it  ?  " 

I  shook  my  head,  and  was  silent. 

"  Come,  come,  be  frank  with  us;  unblemished  virtue 
fares  very  ill  here.  There  was  a  gentleman  lost  his  head 
this  morning,  who  never  did  anything  all  his  life  other 
than  keep  the  post-office  at  Tarbes;  but  somehow  he 
happened  to  let  a  letter  pass  into  the  bag  addressed  to  an 
elderly  gentleman  in  England,  called  the  Count  d'Artois, 
not  knowing  that  the  Count's  letters  are  always  '  to  the 
care  of  Citizen  Bonaparte.'  Well,  they  shortened  him 
by  the  neck  for  it.  Cruel !  you  will  say ;  but  so  much 
for  innocence." 

"  For  the  last  time  then,  gentlemen,  I  must  express  my 
sincere  sorrow  that  I  have  neither  murder,  treason,  nor 
any  other  infamy  on  my  conscience,  which  might  qualify 
me  for  the  distinguished  honour  of  associating  with  you. 
Such  being  the  case,  and  my  sense  of  my  deficiency  being 
so  great,  you  will,  I'm  sure,  pardon  me  if  1  do  not  ob- 
trude on  society  of  which  I  am  unworthy,  and  which  I 
have  now  the  honour  to  wish  a  good-day  to."  With  this, 
and  a  formal  bow,  returned  equally  politely  by  the  rest,  I 
moved  on,  and  entered  the  tower. 

Sombre  and  sad  as  were  my  own  reflections,  yet  did  I 
prefer  their  company  to  that  of  my  fellow-prisoners,  for 


822  TOM    BURKE    OP    "  OURS.** 

whom  already  I  began  to  conceive  a  perfect  feeling  of 
abhorrence. 

Revolting,  indeed,  was  the  indifference  to  fame,  honour, 
and  even  life,  which  I  already  witnessed  among  them ; 
but  what  was  it  compared  with  the  deliberate  treachery 
of  men  who  could  wait  for  the  hour  when  the  heart,  over- 
flowing with  sorrow,  opened  itself  for  consolation  and 
comfort,  and  then  search  its  every  recess  for  proofs  of 
guilt  that  should  bring  the  mourner  to  the  scaffold  ? 

How  any  government  could  need,  how  they  could  tole- 
rate such  assassins  as  these,  I  could  not  conceive.  And 
was  this  his  doing — were  these  his  minions,  whose  high- 
soul  ed  chivalry  had  been  my  worship  and  my  idolatry  ? 
No,  no ;  I'll  not  believe  it.  Bonaparte  knows  not  the 
dark  and  terrible  secrets  of  these  gloomy  walls.  The 
hero  of  Arcole,  the  conqueror  of  Italy,  wots  not  of  the 
frightful  tyranny  of  these  dungeons:  did  he  but  know 
them,  what  a  destiny  would  wait  on  those  who  thus  stain 
with  crime  and  treachery  the  fame  of  that  "  Belle  France" 
he  made  so  great ! 

Oh!  that  in  the  hour  of  my  accusation — in  the  very 
last  of  my  life,  were  it  on  the  step  of  the  guillotine — I 
could  but  speak  with  words  to  reach  him,  and  say,  how 
glory  like  his  must  be  tarnished,  if  such  deeds  went  on 
unpunished ;  that  while  thousands  and  thousands  were 
welcoming  his  path  with  cries  of  wild  enthusiasm  and 
joy,  in  the  cold  cells  of  the  Temple  there  were  breaking 
hearts,  whose  sorrow-wrung  confessions  were  registered, 
whose  prayers  were  canvassed  for  evidences  of  desires 
that  might  be  converted  into  treason.  He  could  have  no 
sympathy  with  men  like  these.  Not  such  the  brave  who 
followed  him  at  Lodi ;  not  kindred  souls  were  they  who 
died  for  him  at  Marengo.  Alas !  alas  I  how  might  men 
read  of  him  hereafter,  if  by  such  acts  the  splendour  of 
his  greatness  was  to  suffer  stain.  While  thoughts  like 
these  filled  my  mind,  and  in  the  excitement  of  awakened 
indignation  I  trod  my  little  cell  backwards  and  forwards, 
the  gaoler  entered,  and,  having  locked  the  door  behind 
him,  approached  me. 

"  You  are  the  Sous-Lieutenant  Burke:  is  it  not  so? 
Well,  I  have  a  letter  for  you  ;  I  promised  to  deliver  it  oa 
qne  condition  only — which  is,  that  when  read,  you  shall 


THE    "  TEMPLE.'*  823 

tear  it  in  pieces.  Were  it  known  that  I  did  this,  my 
head  would  roll  in  the  Plaine  de  Grenelle  before  daybreak 
to-morrow.  I  also  promised  to  put  you  on  your  guard : 
speak  to  few  here  ;  confide  in  none ;  and  now  here  is 
your  letter." 

I  opened  the  billet  hastily,  and  read  the  few  lines  it 
contained,  which  evidently  were  written  in  a  feigned  hand. 
"  Your  life  is  in  danger — any  delay  may  be  your  ruin — 
address  the  minister  at  once  as  to  the  cause  of  your  de- 
tention, and  for  the  charges  under  which  you  are  com- 
mitted :  demand  permission  to  consult  an  advocate,  and, 
when  demanded,  it  can't  be  refused.  Write  to  Monsieur 
Baillot,  of  4,  Rue  Chantereine,  in  whom  you  may  trust 
implicitly,  and  who  has  already  instructions  for  your  de- 
fence. Accept  the  enclosed,  and  believe  in  the  faithful 
attachment  of  a  sincere  friend."  A  billet  de  banque  for 
three  thousand  francs  was  folded  in  the  note,  and  fell  to 
the  ground  as  I  read  it. 

"  Parbleu!  I'll  not  ask  you  to  tear  this,  though,"  said 
the  gaoler  as  he  handed  it  to  me ;  "  and  now  let  me  see 
you  destroy  the  other." 

I  read  and  re-read  the  few  lines  over  and  over,  some 
new  meaning  striking  me  at  each  word,  while  I  asked 
myself  from  whom  it  could  have  come.  Was  it  De  Beau- 
vais  ?  or  dare  I  hope  it  was  one  dearest  to  me  of  all  the 
world  ?  Who,  then,  in  the  saddest  hour  of  my  exist- 
ence, could  step  between  me  and  my  sorrow,  and  leave 
hope  as  my  companion  in  the  dreary  solitude  of  a 
prison  ? 

"  Again,  I  say,  be  quick,"  cried  the  gaoler;  "  my  being 
here  so  long  may  be  remarked.  Tear  it  at  once." 

He  followed  with  an  eager  eye  every  morsel  of  paper 
as  it  fell  from  my  hand,  and  only  seemed  at  ease  as  the  last 
dropped  to  the  ground ;  and  then,  without  speaking  a 
word,  unlocked  the  door  and  withdrew. 

The  shipwrecked  sailor,  clinging  to  some  wave-tossed 
raft,  and  watching  with  bloodshot  eye  the  falling  day, 
where  no  friendly  sail  has  once  appeared,  and  at  last,  as 
every  hope  dies  out  one  by  one  within  him,  he  hears  a 
cheer  break  through  the  plashing  of  the  sea,  calling  on 
him  to  live,  may  feel  something  like  what  were  my  sensa- 
tions, as  once  more  alone  in  my  cell  I  thought  of  thg 


824  TOM  BURKE   OP   "  OURS." 

friendly  voice  that  could  arouse  me  from  my  cold  despair, 
Ind  bid  me  hope  again. 

What  a  change  came  over  the  world  to  my  eyes !  the 
very  cell  itself  no  longer  seemed  dark  and  dreary ;  the 
faint  sunlight  that  fell  through  the  narrow  window  seemed 
soft  and  mellow ;  the  voices  I  heard  without  struck  me 
not  as  dissonant  and  harsh ;  the  reckless  gaiety  I  shuddered 
at,  the  dark  treachery  I  abhorred,  I  could  now  compas- 
sionate the  one,  and  openly  despise  the  other ;  and  it  was 
with  that  stout  determination  at  my  heart  that  I  sallied 
forth  into  the  garden  where  still  the  others  lingered, 
waiting  for  the  drum  that  summoned  them  to  dinner. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

IHB   "CHOPAHa.'' 

WHEN  night  came,  and  all  was  silent  in  the  prison,  I  sat 
down  to  write  my  letter  to  the  minister.  I  knew  enough 
of  such  matters  to  be  aware  that  brevity  is  the  great  requi- 
site ;  and,  therefore,  without  any  attempt  to  anticipate  my 
accusation  by  a  defence  of  my  motives,  I  simply,  but  re- 
spectfully, demanded  the  charges  alleged  against  me,  and 
prayed  for  the  earliest  and  most  speedy  investigation  into 
my  conduct.  Such  were  the  instructions  of  my  unknown 
friend,  and,  as  I  proceeded  to  follow  them,  their  meaning 
at  once  became  apparent  to  me.  Haste  was  recommended, 
evidently  to  prevent  such  explanations  and  inquiries  into 
my  conduct  as  more  time  might  afford.  My  appearance 
at  the  chateau  might  still  be  a  mystery  to  them,  and  one 
which  might  remain  unfathomable,  if  any  plausible  reason 
were  put  forward.  And  what  more  could  be  laid  to  my 
charge  ?  True,  the  brevet  of  colonel  found  on  my  person  ; 
but  this  I  coald  with  truth  allege  had  never  been  accepted 


THE    "  CHOUANS."  825 

by  me.  They  would  scarcely  condemn  me  on  such  testi- 
mony, unsupported  by  any  direct  charge ;  and  who  could 
bring  such  save  De  Beauvais  ?  Flimsy  and  weak  as  such 
pretexts  were,  yet  were  they  enough  in  my  then  frame  of 
mind  to  support  my  courage  and  nerve  my  heart;  but 
more  than  all  I  trusted  in  the  sincere  loyalty  I  felt  for  the 
cause  of  the  Government  and  its  great  chief — a  sentiment 
which,  however  difficult  to  prove,  gave  myself  that  inward 
sense  of  safety  which  only  can  flow  from  strong  convic- 
tions of  honesty.  "  It  may  so  happen,"  thought  I,  "  that 
circumstances  may  appear  against  me,  but  I  know  and 
feel  my  heart  is  true  and  firm,  and,  even  at  the  worst, 
such  a  consciousness  will  enable  me  to  bear  whatever  may 
be  my  fortune." 

The  next  morning  my  altered  manner  and  happier  look 
excited  the  attention  of  the  others,  who  by  various  en- 
deavours tried  to  fathom  the  cause,  or  learn  any  parti- 
culars of  my  fate;  but  in  vain,  for  already  I  was  on  my 
guard  against  even  a  chance  expression,  and,  save  on  the 
most  commonplace  topics,  held  no  intercourse  with  any. 
Far  from  being  offended  at  my  reserve,  they  seemed  rather 
to  have  conceived  a  species  of  respect  for  one  whose 
secrecy  imparted  something  of  interest  to  him ;  and  while 
they  tried,  by  the  chance  allusion  to  political  events  and 
characters,  to  sound  me,  I  could  see  that,  though  baffled, 
they  by  no  means  gave  up  the  battle. 

As  time  wore  on,  this  half  persecution  died  away — each, 
day  brought  some  prisoner  or  other  amongst  us,  or  re- 
moved some  of  those  we  had  to  other  places  of  confine- 
ment, and  thus  I  became  forgotten  in  the  interest  of 
newer  events.  About  a  week  after  my  entrance  we  were 
walking  as  usual  about  the  gardens,  when  a  rumour  ran, 
that  a  prisoner  of  great  consequence  had  been  arrested 
the  preceding  night,  and  conveyed  to  the  Temple ;  and 
various  surmises  were  afloat  as  to  who  he  might  be,  or 
whether  he  should  be  au  secret  or  at  large.  While  the 
point  was  eagerly  discussed,  a  low  door  from  the  house 
was  opened,  and  the  gaoler  appeared,  followed  by  a  large, 
powerful  man,  whom  in  one  glance  I  remembered  as  the 
chief  of  the  Vendean  party  at  the  chateau,  and  the  same 
who  effected  his  escape  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  He 
passed  close  to  where  I  stood,  his  arm  folded  on  his 


826  TOM    BUEKB    OP    "  OURS." 

breast — his  clear  blue  eye  bent  calmly  on  me — yet  never  by 
the  slightest  sign  did  he  indicate  that  we  had  ever  met  be- 
fore. I  divined  at  ouce  his  meaning,  and  felt  grateful  for 
what  I  guessed  might  be  a  measure  necessary  to  my  safety. 

"I  tell  you,"  said  a  shrivelled  old  fellow,  in  a  worn 
dressing-gown  and  slippers,  who  held  the  Moniteur  of  that 
day  in  his  hand — "  I  tell  you  it  is  himself ;  and  see,  his 
hand  is  wounded — though  he  does  his  best  to  conceal  the 
bandage  in  his  bosom." 

"  Well,  well — read  us  the  account :  where  did  it  occur  ?" 
cried  two  or  three  in  a  breath. 

The  old  man  seated  himself  on  a  bench,  and,  having 
arranged  his  spectacles  and  unfolded  the  journal,  held 
out  his  hand  to  proclaim  silence,  when  suddenly  a  wild 
cheer  broke  from  the  distant  part  of  the  garden,  whither 
the  newly-arrived  prisoner  had  turned  his  steps — a  second, 
louder,  followed,  in  which  the  wild  cry  of  "  Vive  le  Roi  !  " 
could  be  distinctly  heard. 

"  You  hear  them,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Was  I  right 
now  ?  I  knew  it  must  be  him." 

"  Strange  enough,  too,  he  should  not  be  au  secret," 
said  another.  "  The  generals  have  never  been  suffered  to 
speak  to  any  one  since  their  confinement.  But  read  on, 
let  us  hear  it." 

"  '  On  yesterday  morning,'  "  said  the  little  man,  read- 
ing aloud,  "  '  Picot,  the  servant  of  George,  was  arrested, 
and  although  every  endeavour  was  made  to  induce  him  to 
confess  where  his  master  was '  " 

"  Do  you  know  the  meaning  of  that  phrase,  Duchos  ?  " 
said  a  tall,  melancholy-looking  man,  with  a  bald  head — 
"  that  means  the  torture  ;  thumb-screws  and  flint  vices  are 
the  mode  once  more;  see  here."  As  he  spoke  he  undid  a 
silk  handkerchief  that  was  wrapped  around  his  wrist,  and 
exhibited  a  hand  that  seemed  actually  smashed  into  frag- 
ments— the  bones  were  forced  in  many  places  through 
the  flesh,  which  hung  in  dark-coloured  and  blood-stained 
pieces  about. 

"  I  would  show  that  hand  at  the  tribunal,"  muttered 
an  old  soldier  in  a  faded  blue  frock.  "  I'd  hold  it  up  when 
they'd  ask  me  to  swear." 

"  Your  head  would  only  fare  the  worse  for  doing  so," 
•aid  the  abb6.  "  Read  on,  Monsieur  Duchos." 


THK    "CHOUANS."  827 

"  Oh,  where  was  I  ?—Pardieu/  colonel,  I  wish  you  would 
cover  that  up :  I  shall  dream  of  that  terrible  thumb  all 
night. — Here  we  are — '  Though  nothing  could  be  learned 
from  Picot,  it  was  ascertained  that  the  brigand '  " 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  said  a  fat  little  fellow  in  a  blouse,  "  they  call 
them  all  brigands — Moreau  is  a  brigand — Pichegru  is  a 
brigand  too." 

"  '  That  the  brigand  had  passed  Monday  night  near 
Chaillot,  and  on  Tuesday,  towards  evening,  was  seen  at 
Sainte-Genevieve,  where  it  was  suspected  he  slept  on  the 
mountain ;  on  Wednesday  the  police  traced  him  to  the 
cabriolet  stand  at  the  end  of  the  Rue  de  Conder  where  he 
took  a  carriage  and  drove  towards  the  Ode"on.  ' 

"  Probably  he  was  going  to  the  spectacle.  What  did 
they  play  that  night  ?  "  said  the  fat  man.  "  La  Mart  de 
Barberousse,  perhaps." 

The  other  read  on. — "  'The  officer  cried  out,  as  he 
seized  the  bridle,  "  Je  vousarr^te  !  "  when  George  levelled 
a  pistol  and  shot  him  through  the  forehead,  and  then 
springing  over  the  dead  body  dashed  down  the  street. 
The  butchers  of  tLe  neighbourhood,  who  knew  the  reward 
offered  for  his  apprehension,  pursued  and  fell  upon  him 
with  their  hatchets  ;  a  hand-to-hand  encounter  followed, 
in  which  the  brigand's  wrist  was  nearly  severed  from  his 
arm,  and  thus  disabled  and  overpowered,  he  was  secured 
and  conveyed  to  the  Temple.'  " 

"  And  who  is  this  man  ?  "  said  I  in  a  whisper  to  the 
tall  person  near  me." 

"  The  General  George  Cadoudal — a  brave  Breton,  and 
a  faithful  follower  of  his  king,"  replied  he ;  "  and  may 
Heaven  have  pity  on  him  now  !  "  He  crossed  himself 
piously  as  he  spoke,  and  moved  slowly  away. 

"  General  Cadoudal !  "  repeated  I  to  myself,  "the  same 
whose  description  figured  on  every  wall  of'  the  capital,  and 
for  whose  apprehension  immense  rewards  were  offered  ;  " 
and  with  an  inward  .shudder  I  thought  of  my  chance  in- 
tercourse with  the  man — to  harbour  whom  was  death — 
the  dreaded  chief  of  the  Chouans — the  daring  Breton — of 
whom  Paris  rung  with  stories.  And  this  was  the  com- 
panion of  Henry  de  Beauvais.  Revolving  such  thoughts, 
I  strolled  along  unconsciously,  until  I  reached  the  place 
where,  some  days  before,  I  had  seen  the  Vendeans  engaged 


TOM    BURKE    OP    "  OURS." 

in  prayer.  The  loud  tone  of  a  deep  voice  arrested  my  steps. 
I  stopped  and  listened.  It  was  George  himself  who  spoke  ; 
he  stood,  drawn  up  to  his  full  height,  in  the  midst  of  a 
large  circle  who  sat  around  on  the  grass.  Though  his 
language  was  a  patois  of  which  I  was  ignorant,  I  could 
catch  here  and  there  some  indication  of  his  meaning,  as 
much  perhaps  from  his  gesture  and  the  look  of  those  he 
addressed,  as  from  the  words  themselves.  It  was  an  exhor- 
tation to  them  to  endure  with  fortitude  the  lot  that  had  be- 
fallen them — to  meet  death  when  it  came  without  fear,  as 
they  could  do  so  without  dishonour — to  strengthen  their 
courage  by  looking  to  him,  who  would  always  give  them 
an  example  of  what  they  should  be.  The  last  words  he 
spoke  were  in  a  plainer  dialect,  and  almost  these — "  Throw 
no  glance  on  the  past.  We  are  where  we  are — we  are 
where  God,  in  his  wisdom,  and  for  his  own  ends,  has 
placed  us.  If  this  cause  be  just,  our  martyrdom  is  a 
blessed  one  ;  if  it  be  not  so,  our  death  is  our  punishment ; 
and  never  forget  that  you  are  permitted  to  meet  it  from 
the  same  spot  where  our  glorious  monarch  went  to  meet 
his  own." 

A  cry  of  "  Vive  le  Roi ! "  half  stifled  by  sobs  of  emotion, 
broke  from  the  listeners,  as  they  rose,  and  pressed  around 
him. 

There  he  stood  in  the  midst,  while,  like  children,  they 
came  to  kiss  his  hand — to  hear  him  speak  one  word — even 
to  look  on  him.  Their  swarthy  faces,  where  hardship  and 
suffering  had  left  many  a  deep  line  and  furrow,  beamed 
with  smiles  as  he  turned  towards  them ;  and  many  a 
proud  look  was  bent  on  the  rest  by  those  to  whom  he 
addressed  a  single  word.  One  I  could  not  help  remarking 
above  the  others,  a  slight,  pale,  and  handsome  youth, 
whose  almost  girlish  cheek  the  first  down  of  youth  was 
shading.  George  leaned  his  arm  round  his  neck,  and 
called  him  by  his  name,  and  in  a  voice  almost  tremulous 
from  emotion.  "  And  you,  Bouvet  de  Lozier,  whose  infancy 
wanted  nothing  of  luxury  and  enjoyment — for  whom  all 
that  wealth  and  affection  could  bestow  were  in  abundance- 
how  do  you  bear  these  rugged  reverses,  my  dear  boy  ?  " 

The  youth  looked  up  with  eyes  bathed  in  tears;  the 
hectic  spot  in  his  face  gave  way  to  the  paleness  of  death, 
and  his  lips  moved  without  a  sound. 


THE    "OHOUANS.**  829 

*'  He  has  been  ill — the  count  has,"  said  a  peasant,  in  a 
low  voice. 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  George  ;  "  he  was  not  meant  for 
trials  like  these  ;  the  cares  he  used  to  bury  in  his  mother's 
lap  met  other  consolations  than  our  ruder  ones.  Look  up, 
Bouvet,  my  man,  and  remember  you  are  a  man." 

The  youth  trembled  from  head  to  foot,  and  looked  fear- 
fully around,  as  if  dreading  something,  while  he  clutched 
the  strong  arm  beside  him,  as  though  for  protection. 

"  Courage,  boy — courage  !  "  said  George.  "  We  are 
together  here — what  can  harm  you  ?  " 

Then  dropping  his  voice,  and  turning  to  the  rest,  he 
added, — 

''  They  have  been  tampering  with  his  reason — his  eye  be- 
trays a  wandering  intellect.  Take  him  with  you,  Claude 
— he  loves  you — and  do  not  leave  him  for  a  moment." 

The  youth  pressed  George's  fingers  to  his  pale  lips,  and, 
with  his  head  bent  down  and  listless  gait,  moved  slowly 
away. 

As  I  wandered  from  the  spot,  my  heart  was  full  of  all  I 
had  witnessed.  The  influence  of  their  chief  had  surprised 
me  on  the  night  of  the  attack  on  the  chateau.  But  how 
much  more  wonderful  did  it  seem  now,  when  confined 
within  the  walls  of  a  prison — the  only  exit  to  which  was 
the  path  that  led  to  the  guillotine.  Yet  was  their  reliance 
on  all  he  said  as  great,  as  implicit  their  faith  in  him,  as 
warm  their  affection,  as  though  success  had  crowned  each 
effort  he  suggested,  and  that  fortune  had  been  as  kind  as 
she  had  proved  adverse  to  his  enterprise. 

Such  were  the  Chouans  in  the  Temple.  Life  had  pre- 
sented '  to  their  hardy  natures  too  many  vicissitudes  to 
make  them  quail  beneath  the  horrors  of  a  prison — death 
they  had  confronted  in  many  shapes,  and  they  feared  it 
not  even  at  the  hands  of  the  executioner.  Loyalty  to  the 
exiled  family  of  France  was  less  a  political  than  a  religious 
feeling — one  inculcated  at  the  altar,  and  carried  home  to 
the  fireside  of  the  cottage.  Devotion  to  their  king  was  a 
part  of  their  faith.  The  sovereign  was  but  a  saint  the 
more  in  their  calendar.  The  glorious  triumphs  of  the 
revolutionary  armies — the  great  conquests  of  the  Consu- 
late— found  no  sympathy  within  their  bosoms ;  they  neither 
joined  the  battle  nor  partook  of  the  ovation.  They  looked 


880  TOM    BURKE    OP   "  OURS." 

on  all  such  as  the  passing  pageant  of  the  hour — and  mut- 
tered to  each  other,  that  the  bon  Dieu  could  not  bless  a 
nation  that  was  false  to  its  king. 

Who  could  see  them,  as  they  met  each  morning,  and  not 
feel  deeply  interested  in  these  brave  but  simple  peasants? 
At  daybreak  they  knelt  together  in  prayer,  their  chief 
officiating  as  priest ;  their  deep  voices  joined  in  the  hymn 
of  their  own  native  valleys,  as  with  tearful  eyes  they  sarg 
the  songs  that  reminded  them  of  home.  The  service 
over,  George  addressed  them  in  a  short  speech — some 
words  of  advice  and  guidance  for  the  coming  day — re- 
minding them  that  ere  another  morning  shone,  many 
might  be  summoned  before  the  tribunal  to  be  examined, 
and  from  thence  led  forth  to  death ;  exhorting  them  to 
fidelity  to  each  other,  and  loyalty  to  their  glorious  cause. 
Then  came  the  games  of  their  country,  which  they  played 
with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  liberty  and  happiness.  These 
were  again  succeeded  by  hours  passed  in  hearing  and  re- 
lating stories  of  their  beloved  Bretagne — of  its  tried  faith 
and  its  ancient  bravery — while,  through  all,  they  lived  a 
community  apart  from  the  other  prisoners,  who  never  dared 
to  obtrude  upon  them  ;  nor  did  the  most  venturesome 
of  the  police  spies  ever  transgress  a  limit  that  might  have 
cost  him  his  life. 

Thus  did  two  so  different  currents  run  side  by  side 
within  the  walls  of  the  Temple,  and  each  regarding  the 
other  with  disti-nst  and  dis^ke. 

While  thus  I  felt  a  growing  interest  for  these  bold  but 
simple  children  of  the  forest,  my  anxiety  for  my  own  fate 
grew  hourly  greater.  No  answer  was  ever  returned  to 
my  letter  to  the  minister,  nor  any  notice  taken  of  it 
whatever;  and  though  each  day  I  heard  of  some  one  or 
other  being  examined  before  the  "  Tribunal  Special,"  or 
the  prefet  de  police,  I  seemed  as  much  forgotten  as  though 
the  grave  enclosed  me.  My  dread  of  anything  like  ac- 
quaintance or  intimacy  with  the  other  prisoners  prevented 
my  learning  much  of  what  went  forward  each  day,  and 
from  which,  from  some  source  or  other,  they  seemed  well 
informed.  A  chance  phrase— an  odd  word  now  and  then 
dropped — would  tell  me  of  some  new  discovery  by  the 
police,  or  some  recent  confession  by  a  captured  con- 
spirator ;  but  of  what  the  crime  consisted,  and  who 


THE    "  CHOUANS."  831 

were    they   principally   implicated,   I    remained    totally 
ignorant. 

It  was  well  known  that  both  Moreau  and  Pichegru  were 
confined  in  a  part  of  the  tower  that  opened  upon  the  lerrace, 
but  neither  suffered  to  communicate  with  each  other,  nor 
even  to  appear  at  large  like  the  other  prisoners.  It  was 
rumoured,  too,  that  each  day  one  or  both  were  submitted 
to  long  and  searching  examinations,  which,  it  was  said, 
had  hitherto  elicited  nothing  from  either,  save  total  denial 
of  any  complicity  whatever,  and  complete  ignorance  of  the 
plots  and  machinations  of  others. 

So  much  we  could  learn  from  the  Moniteur,  which 
reached  us  each  day  ;  and,  while  assuming  a  tone  of  open 
reprobation  regarding  the  Chouans,  spoke  in  terms  the 
most  cautious  and  reserved  respecting  the  two  generals, 
as  if  probing  the  public  mind  how  far  their  implication  in 
treason  might  be  credited,  and  with  what  faith  the  proofs 
of  their  participation  might  be  received. 

At  last  the  train  seemed  laid ;  /the  explosion  was  all 
prepared,  and  nothing  wanting  but  the  spark  to  ignite 
it  A  letter  from  Moreau  to  the  Consul  appeared  in  the 
columns  of  the  Government  paper,  in  which,  after  recapitu- 
lating in  terms  most  suitable  the  services  he  had  rendered 
the  Republic  while  in  command  of  the  army  of  the  Rhine, 
the  confidence  the  Convention  had  always  placed  in  him, 
the  frequent  occasions  which  had  presented  themselves  to 
him  of  gratifying  ambitious  views  (had  he  conceived  such), 
he  adverted  in  brief  but  touching  terms  to  his  conduct  on 
the  18th  Brumaire,  in  seconding  the  adventurous  step 
taken  by  Bonaparte  himself,  and  attributed  the  neglect  his 
devotion  had  met  with  rather  to  the  interference  and 
plotting  of  his  enemies,  than  to  any  estrangement  on  the 
part  of  the  Consul.  Throughout  the  whole  of  the  epistle 
there  reigned  a  tone  of  reverence  for  the  authority  of 
Bonaparte  most  striking  and  remarkable ;  there  was 
nothing  like  an  approach  to  the  equality  which  might  well 
be  supposed  to  subsist  between  two  great  generals — albeit 
the  one  was  at  the  height  of  power,  and  the  other  sunk  in 
the  very  depth  of  misfortune.  On  the  contrary,  the  letter 
was  nothing  more  than  an  appeal  to  old  souvenirs  and 
former  services — to  one  wno  possessed  the  power,  if  he 
had  the  will,  to  save  him  ;  it  breathed  throughout  the 


332  TOM  BURKE  OP   "  OTJRS." 

sentiments  of  one  who  demands  a  favour,  and  that  favour 
his  life  and  honour,  at  the  hands  of  him  who  had  already 
constituted  himself  the  fountain  of  both. 

While  such  was  the  position  of  Moreau — -a  position 
which  resulted  in  his  downfall — chance  informed  us  of  the 
different  ground  occupied  by  his  companion  in  misfortune, 
the  General  Pichegrn. 

About  three  days  after  the  publication  of  Moreau's  letter, 
we  were  walking  as  usual  in  the  garden  of  the  Temple,  when 
a  huissier  came  up,  and,  beckoning  to  two  of  the  prisoners, 
desired  them  to  follow  him.  Such  was  the  ordinary  course 
by  which  one  or  more  were  daily  summoned  before  the 
tribunal  for  examination,  and  we  took  no  notice  of  what 
had  become  a  matter  of  every-day  occurrence,  and  went 
on  conversing  as  before  about  the  news  of  the  morning. 
Several  hours  elapsed  without  the  others  having  returned, 
and  at  last  we  began  to  feel  anxious  about  their  fate,  when 
one  of  them  made  his  appearance — his  heightened  colour 
and  agitated  expression  betokening  that  something  more 
than  common  had  occurred. 

"  We  were  examined  with  Pichegru,"  said  the  prisoner, 
who  was  an  old  quartermaster  in  the  army  of  the  Upper 
Rhine,  as  he  sat  down  upon  a  bench  and  wiped  hia 
forehead  with  his  handkerchief. 

"  Indeed !  "  said  the  tall  colonel  with  the  bald  head ; 
"  before  Monsieur  Real,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Yes,  before  Real.  My  poor  old  general — there  he  was, 
as  I  used  to  see  him  formerly,  with  his  hand  on  the  breast 
of  his  uniform,  his  pale,  thin  features  as  calm  as  ever, 
until  at  last,  when  roused,  his  eyes  flashed  fire,  and  his 
lip  trembled  before  he  broke  out  into  such  a  torrent  of 
attack " 

"  Attack,  say  yon  ?  "  interrupted  the  abbe ;  "  a  bold 
course,  my  faith !  in  one  who  has  need  of  all  his  powers 
for  defence." 

"  It  was  ever  his  tactique  to  be  the  assailant,"  said  a 
bronzed,  soldier-like  fellow,  in  a  patched  uniform ;  "  he 
did  so  in  Holland." 

"  He  chose  a  better  enemy  to  practise  it  with  then,  than 
he  has  done  now,"  resumed  the  quartermaster,  sadly. 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  ? "  cried  half  a  dozen  voices 
together. 


THE    "CHOUANS."  883 

"  The  Consul." 

"  The  Consul !  Bonaparte  !  Attack  him  /"  repeated  one 
after  the  other,  in  accents  of  surprise  and  horror.  "  Poor 
fellow,  he  is  deranged." 

"  So  I  almost  thought  myself,  as  I  heard  him,"  replied 
the  quartermaster ;  "  for,  after  submitting  with  patience 
to  a  long  and  tiresome  examination,  he  suddenly,  as  if 
endurance  could  go  no  farther,  cried  out — *  Assez  I '  The 
prefet  started,  and  Thuriot,  who  sat  beside  him,  looked 
up  terrified,  while  Pichegru  went  on.  '  So,  the  whole  of 
this  negotiation  about  Cayenne  is  then  a  falsehood.  Your 
promise  to  make  me  governor  there,  if  I  consented  to  quit 
France  for  ever,  was  a  trick  to  extort  confession,  or  a  bribe 
to  silence.  Be  it  so.  Now,  come  what  will,  I'll  not  leave 
France ;  and,  more  still,  I'll  declare  everything  before  the 
judges  openly  at  the  tribunal.  The  people  shall  know,  all 
Europe  shall  know,  who  is  my  accuser,  and  what  he  is. 
Yes,  your  Consul  himself  treated  with  the  Bourbons  in 
Italy  ;  the  negotiations  were  begun,  continued,  carried  on, 
and  only  broken  off  by  his  own  excessive  demands.  Ay, 
I  can  prove  it ;  his  very  return  from  Egypt  through  the 
whole  English  fleet — that  happy  chance,  as  you  were  won't 
to  term  it — was  a  secret  treaty  with  Pitt  for  the  restoration 
of  the  exiled  family  on  his  reaching  Paris.  These  facts — 
and  facts  you  shall  confess  them — are  in  my  power  to 
prove  ;  and  prove  them  I  will  in  the  face  of  all  France.'  " 

"Poor  Pichegru!"  said  the  abbe,  contemptuously. 
"  What  an  ill-tempered  child  a  great  general  may  be  after 
all !  Did  he  think  the  hour  would  ever  come  for  him  to 
realize  such  a  dream  ?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  cried  two  or  three  together. 

"  The  Corsican  never  forgets  a  vendetta,"  was  the  cool 
reply,  as  he  walked  away. 

"  True,"  said  the  colonel,  thoughtfully — "  quite  true." 

To  me  these  words  were  riddles.  My  only  feeling  to- 
wards Pichegru  was  one  of  contempt  and  pity  that,  in  any 
depth  of  misfortune,  he  could  resort  to  such  an  unworthy 
attack  upon  him  who  still  was  the  idol  of  all  my  thoughts  ; 
and  for  this,  the  conqueror  of  Holland  stood  now  as  low  in 
my  esteem  as  the  most  vulgar  of  the  rabble  gang  that  each 
day  saw  sentenced  to  the  galleys. 


334  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OUBS/ 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

THE    RETON   0?  TERROR    UNDER   THE    CONSULATE. 

ON  the  morning  that  followed  the  scene  I  have  spoken  of 
came  the  news  of  the  arrest,  the  trial,  and  the  death  of  the 
Due  d'Enghien.  That  terrible  tragedy,  which  yet  weighs, 
and  will  weigh  for  ever,  on  the  memory  of  the  period, 
readied  us  in  our  prison  with  all  the  terrible  force  of  cir- 
cumstances to  make  it  a  day  of  sorrow  and  mourning. 
Such  details  as  the  journals  afforded  but  little  satisfied 
our  curiosity.  The  youth,  the  virtues,  the  bravery  of  the 
prince  had  made  him  the  idol  of  his  party  ;  and  while  his 
death  was  lamented  for  his  own  sake,  his  followers  read  in 
it  the  determination  of  the  Government  to  stop  at  nothing 
in  their  resolve  to  exterminate  that  party.  A  gloomy 
silence  sat  upon  the  Chouans,  who  no  longer  moved  about 
as  before,  regardless  of  their  confinement  to  a  prison. 
Their  chief  remained  apart ;  he  neither  spoke  to  any  one, 
nor  seemed  to  notice  those  who  passed  :  he  looked  stunned 
and  stupefied,  rather  than  deeply  affected,  and  when  he 
lifted  his  eyes,  their  expression  was  cold  and  wandering. 
Even  the  other  prisoners,  who  rarely  gave  way  to  feeling 
of  any  kind,  seemed  at  first  overwhelmed  by  these  sad 
tidings ;  and  doubtless  many  who  before  had  trusted  to 
rank  and  influence  for  their  safety,  saw  how  little  depen- 
dence could  be  placed  on  such  aid,  when  the  blow  had 
fallen  upon  a  "  Conde  "  himself. 

I,  who  neither  knew  the  political  movements  of  the 
time  nor  the  sources  of  the  danger  the  Consul's  party  an- 
ticipated, could  only  mourn  over  the  unhappy  fate  of  a 
gallant  prince  whose  daring  had  cost  him  his  life,  and 
never  dreamed  for  a  moment  of  calling  in  question  the 
honour  or  good  faith  of  Bonaparte  in  an  affair  of  which  I 
could  have  easily  believed  him  totally  ignorant.  Such,  in- 
deed, was  the  representation  of  the  Moniteur;  and  what- 
ever doubts  the  hints  about  me  might  have  excited,  were 


THE  REIGN  OF  TERROR  TINDER  THE  CONSULATE.     885 

speedily  allayed  by  the  accounts  I  read  of  the  Consul's  in- 
dignation at  the  haste  and  informality  of  the  trial,  and  his 
deep  anger  at  the  catastrophe  that  followed  it. 

"  Savary  will  be  disgraced  for  this,"  said  I  to  the  abbe 
who  leaned  over  my  shoulder  while  I  read  the  paper. 
"  Bonaparte  can  never  forgive  him." 

"  You  mistake,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  he,  with  a  strange 
expression  I  could  not  fathom ;  "  the  Consul  is  the  most 
forgiving  of  men  ;  he  never  bears  malice.  ' 

"  But  here  was  a  dreadful  event — a  crime,  perhaps." 

"  Only  a  fault,"  resumed  he.  "  By  the  bye,  colonel,  thia 
order  about  closing  the  barriers  will  be  excessively  incon- 
venient to  the  good  people  of  Paris." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  over  that,  too,"  said  an  over- 
dressed, affected-looking  youth,  whose  perfumed  curls  and 
studied  costume  formed  a  strange  contrast  with  the  habits 
of  his  fellow-prisoners.  "  If  they  shut  up  the  Barridre  de 
1'Etoile,  what  are  they  to  do  for  Longchamps.?" 

"  Parbleu  /  that  did  not  strike  me,"  interposed  the 
colonel,  tapping  his  forehead  with  his  finger.  "  I'll  wager 
a  crown  that  they  haven't  thought  of  that  themselves." 

"  The  Champs  Elysees  are  surely  long  enough  for  such 
tomfoolery,"  said  the  quartermaster,  in  a  gruff,  savage  tone. 
"  Not  one-half,"  was  the  imperturbable  reply  of  the  youth  ; 
"  and  Longchamps  promised  admirably  this  year.  I  had 
ordered  a  caleche — light  blue,  with  gilt  circles  on  the 
wheels,  and  a  bronze  carving  to  the  pole — like  an  antique 
chariot." 

"  Parbleu  I  you  are  more  likely  to  take  your  next  airing 
in  a  simpler  conveyance,"  said  the  quartermaster,  with  a 
grin. 

"  I  was  to  have  driven  la  Comtesse  de  Beauflers  to  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne." 

"  You  must  content  yourself  with  the  Count  de  la 
Marque  " — the  prison  name  of  the  executioner — "  instead," 
growled  out  the  other. 

I  turned  away,  no  less  disgusted  at  the  frivolity  that 
could  only  see  in  the  dreadful  event  that  took  place  the 
temporary  interruption  to  a  vain  and  silly  promenade,  than 
at  the  savage  coarseness  that  could  revel  in  the  pain  com- 
mon misfortune  gave  him  the  privilege  of  inflicting. 

Such,  however,  was  the  prevalent  tone  of  thinking  and 


836  TOM   BURKE   OP   "  OTJB8." 

speaking  there.  The  death  of  friends — the  ruin  of  those 
best  loved  and  cared  for — the  danger  that  each  day  came 
nearer  to  themselves — were  all  casualties  to  which  habit, 
recklessness  of  life,  and  libertinism  had  accustomed  them  ; 
while  ubout  former  modes  of  life,  the  pleasures  of  the 
capital,  its  delights  and  dissipation,  they  conversed  with 
the  most  eager  interest.  It  is  thus,  while  in  some  natures 
misfortunes  will  call  forth  into  exercise  the  best  and 
noblest  traits  that  in  happier  circumstances  had  never 
found  the  necessity  that  gave  them  birth  ;  so,  in  others, 
adversity  depresses  and  demoralizes  those  weaker  tempera- 
ments that  seemed  formed  to  sail  safely  in  the  calm  waters, 
but  never  destined  to  brave  the  stormy  seas  of  life. 

With  such  associates  I  could  have  neither  sympathy  nor 
friendship ;  and  my  life  passed  on  in  one  unbroken  and 
dreary  monotony — day  succeeding  day,  and  night  following 
night — till  my  thoughts,  turned  ever  inward,  had  worn  as 
it  were  a  track  for  themselves,  in  which  the  world  .without 
and  its  people  had  no  share  whatever.  Not  only  was  my 
application  to  the  minister  unanswered,  but  I  was  never 
examined  before  any  of  the  tribunals ;  and  sometimes 
the  dreadful  fate  of  those  prisoners  who,  in  the  Reign  of 
Terror,  passed  their  whole  life  in  prison,  their  crimes,  their 
very  existence  forgotten,  would  cross  my  mind,  and  strike 
me  with  terror  unspeakable. 

If  in  the  sombre  atmosphere  of  the  Temple  a  sad  and 
cheerless  monotony  prevailed,  events  followed  fast  on  each 
other  in  that  world  from  which  its  gloomy  walls  excluded 
us  ;  every  hour  was  some  new  feature  of  the  dark  conspiracy 
brought  to  light ;  the  vigilance  of  Monsieur  Real  slept  not 
night  or  day  ;  and  all  that  bribery,  terror,  or  torture  could 
effect,  was  put  into  requisition  to  obtain  full  and  precise 
information  as  to  every  one  concerned  in  the  plot. 

It  was  a  bright,  fresh  morning  in  April,  the  sixth  of  the 
month — the  day  is  graven  on  my  memory — when,  on 
walking  forth  into  the  garden,  I  was  surprised  to  see  the 
prisoners  standing  in  a  circle  round  a  tree  on  which  a 
placard  was  fastened,  with  glances  eagerly  turned  towards 
the  paper,  or  bent  sadly  to  the  ground.  They  stood  around, 
sad  and  silent:  to  my  question  of  what  had  occurred,  a 
significant  look  at  the  tree  was  the  only  reply  I  received, 
while  in  the  faces  of  all  I  perceived  that  some  dreadful 


THE  REIGN  OF  TERROR  UNDER  THE  CONSUIiATE.        337 

news  had  reached  them.  Forcing  my  way  with  difficulty 
through  the  crowd,  I  at  length  approached  near  enough  to 
read  the  placard,  on  which,  in  large  letters,  was  written, — 

"  Charles  Pichegru,  ex-General  Repuhlicain,s'est  dtrangU 
dans  sa  prison, 

"  6  AvriL     Le  Temple." 

"And  did  Pichegru,  the  great  conqueror  of  Holland,  die 
by  his  own  hand  ?  "  said  I,  as  my  eye  rested  on  the  fatal 
bulletin. 

"  Don't  you  read  it,  young  man  ?  "  replied  a  deep, 
solemn  voice  beside  me,  which  I  at  once  knew  was  that  of 
General  George  himself.  "  Can  you  doubt  the  accuracy 
of  information  supplied  by  the  police  ?  " 

The  by-standers  looked  up  with  a  terrified  and  frightened 
expression,  as  if  dreading  lest  the  very  listening  to  his 
words  might  be  construed  into  an  acquiescence  in  them. 

"Trust  me,  he  is  dead,"  continued  he.  "They  who 
have  announced  his  fate  here  have  a  right  to  be  relied  on. 
It  now  only  remains  to  be  seen  how  he  died.  These  prison 
maladies  have  a  strange  interest  for  us  who  live  in  the 
infected  climate  ;  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  I  see  the  Moniteur 
yonder,  a  full  hour  before  its  usual  time.  See  what  a 
blessing,  gentlemen,  you  enjoy  in  a  paternal  Governm'ent, 
which,  in  moments  of  public  anxiety,  can  feel  for  your  dis- 
tress, and  hasten  to  alleviate  it." 

The  tone  of  sarcasm  he  spoke  in,  the  measured  fall  of 
every  word,  sank  into  the  hearers'  minds,  and  though  they 
stood  mute,  they  did  not  even  move  from  the  spot. 

"  Here  is  the  Monitewr  now,"  said  the  quartermaster, 
opening  the  paper  and  reading  aloud. 

"  '  To  his  oft-repeated  assurances  that  he  would  make  no 
attempt  upon  his  life- 

A  rude  burst  of  laughter  from  George  interrupted  the 
reader  here. 

"  I  ask  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  he,  touching  his  cap ; 
"  proceed.  I  promise  not  to  interrupt  you  again." 

"  '  That  he  would  make  no  attempt  upon  his  life,  General 
Pichegru  obtained  permission  that  the  sentries  should  be 
stationed  outside  his  cell  Curing  the  night.  Having  pro- 


888  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS.** 

vided  himself  with  a  fagot,  which  he  secreted  beneath  his 
bed,  he  supped  as  usual  in  the  evening  of  yesterday,  eating 
heartily  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  retiring  to  rest  by  twelve. 
When  thus  alone  he  placed  the  stick  within  the  folds  of 
the  black  silk  cravat  he  generally  wore  round  his  neck, 
in  such  a  manner  as,  when  twisted,  to  act  like  a  tourniquet ; 
and  having  turned  it  with  such  a  degree  of  force  as  to 
arrest  the  return  of  blood  from  the  head,  he  fastened  it 
beneath  his  head  and  shoulders,  and  in  this  manner,  apo- 
plexy supervening,  expired.'  " 

'  Par  St.  Louis,  sir,"  cried  George,  "  the  explanation  is 
admirable,  and  most  satisfactorily  shows  how  a  man  may 
possess  life  long  enough  to  be  certain  he  has  killed  himself. 
The  only  thing  wanting  is  for  the  general  to  assist  in 
dressing  the  proces-verbal,  when  .doubtless  his  own  views  ot 
his  case  would  be  equally  edifying  and  instructive  ;  and 
see,  already  the  ceremony  has  begun." 

As  he  spoke,  he  pointed  to  a  number  of  persons  who 
crossed  the  terrace,  preceded  by  Savary,  in  his  uniform  of 
the  gendarmes  d'ttite,  and  who  went  in  the  direction  of  the 
cell  where  the  dead  body  lay. 

The  prisoners  now  fell  into  little  knots  and  groups,  talk- 
ing beneath  their  breath,  and  apparently  terrified  at  every 
stir  about  them.  Each  compared  his  sensation  of  \\  hat 
he  thought  he  heard  during  the  night  with  the  other's. 
Some  asserted  that  they  distinctly  heard  the  chains  of  the 
drawbridge  creak  long  after  midnight ;  others  vouched  for 
the  quick  tramp  of  feet  along  the  corridors,  and  the  sounds 
of  strange  voices;  one,  whose  cell  was  beneath  that  of 
Pichegru,  said  that  he  was  awoke  before  day  by  a  violent 
crash  overhead,  followed  by  a  harsh  sound  like  coughing, 
which  continued  for  some  time,  and  then  ceased  entirely. 
These  were  vague,  uncertain  signs,  yet  what  horrible 
thoughts  did  they  not  beget  in  each  listener's  mind ! 

As  I  stood  terror-struck  and  speechless,  I  felt  a  tap  on 
my  shoulder.  I  turned  ;  it  was  the  abbe,  who,  with  a 
smile  of  peculiar  irony,  stood  behind  me. 

"  Poor  Savary  ! "  said  he,  in  a  whisper  ;  "  how  will  he 
ever  get  over  this  blunder,  and  it  so  very  like  the  former 
one?" 

He  did  not  wait  for  a  reply,  but  moved  away. 

"  Who  is  to  b»  '\e  next,  sir  ?"  cried  George,  with  a  deep 


THE  REIGN  OF  TERROR  UNDER  THE  CONSULATE.       339 

voice,  as  lie  saw  the  assemblage  thus  accidentally  collected 
about  to  break  up — "  Moreau,  perhaps.  One  thing  I  bid 
you  all  bear  witness  to:  suicide  is  a  crime  I'll  never 
commit.  Let  no  narrative  of  a  cravat  and  a  fagot " 

;' Do  you  never  eat  mushrooms,  general?"  said  the 
abbe,  dryly  :  and,  whether  from  the  manner  of  the  speaker, 
or  the  puzzled  look  of  him  to  whom  the  speech  was 
addressed,  the  whole  crowd  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter — 
the  emotion  seemed  like  one  in  which  relief  was  felt  by 
all.  They  laughed  long  and  loud — and  now  the  faces  that 
a  minute  before  were  marked  by  every  character  of  deep 
affliction,  looked  merry  and  happy.  Each  had  some  story, 
some  apropos  to  tell,  or  some  smart  witticism  to  let  off 
against  his  neighbour;  and  to  hear  them  you  would  say 
that  never  was  there  a  subject  more  suggestive  of  drollery 
than  the  one  of  suicide  and  sudden  death. 

And  thus  was  it  ever.  No  event,  however  dreadful — 
no  circumstance,  however  shocking,  could  do  more  than 
momentarily  affect  those  whose  life  possessed  no  security, 
was  governed  by  no  principle.  Levity  and  unbelief — 
unbelief  that  extended  not  only  to  matters  of  religion, 
but  actually  penetrated  every  relation  of  life,  rendering 
them  sceptical  of  friendship,  love,  truth,  honour,  and 
charity —  were  the  impulses  under  which  they  lived  ;  and 
they  would  have  laughed  him  to  scorn  who  should  have 
attempted  to  establish  another  code  of  acting  or  thinking. 
Such  feelings,  if  they  made  them  but  little  suited  to  all 
the  habits  and  charities  of  life,  certainly  rendered  them 
most  indifferent  to  death ;  and  much  of  that  courage  so 
much  lauded  and  admired  on  the  scaffold,  had  no  other 
source  than  in  the  headlong  recklessness  the  prison  had 
inculcated — the  indifference  to  everything,  where  every- 
thing was  questionable  and  doubtful. 

I  struggled  powerfully  against  the  taint  of  such  a  con- 
suming malady.  I  bethought  me  of  my  boyhood  and  its 
early  purpose — of  him  who  first  stirred  my  soul  to  ambi- 
tion— and  asked  myself,  what  would  he  have  thought  of 
me  had  I  yielded  to  such  a  trial  as  this?  I  pictured 
before  me  a  career,  when  such  devotion  as  I  felt,  aided  by 
a  stout  heart,  must  win  its  way  to  honour:  and  when 
roused  to  thought,  these  low,  depressing  dreams,  these 
dark  hours  of  doubt  and  despair,  vanished  before  it.  But 


340  TOM   BURKE    OF   "  OURS." 

gradually  my  health  gave  way — my  lethargic  apathy  in- 
creased upon  me — the  gloomy  walls  of  my  cell  had  thrown 
their  shadow  over  my  spirit,  and  I  sank  into  a  state  of 
moping  indifference,  in  which  I  scarcely  marked  the  change 
of  day  and  night ;  and  felt  at  length  that  had  the  sentence 
been  pronounced  which  condemned  me  for  life  to  the  walls 
of  the  Temple,  I  could  have  heard  it  without  emotion. 

"  Come,  sous-lieutenant,  it's  your  turn  now !  "  said  the 
turnkey,  entering  my  cell  one  morning,  where  I  sat  alone 
at  breakfast ;  "  I  have  just  received  the  orders  for  your 
appearance." 

"  How  !  where  ?  "  said  I,  scarcely  able  to  do  more  than 
guess  at  the  meaning  of  his  words  ;  "  before  the  prefet, 
is  it  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  a  very  different  affair,  indeed :  you  are  sum- 
moned with  the  Chouan  prisoners  to  appear  at  the  Palais 
de  Justice." 

"  The  Palais  !  "  said  I,  as  for  the  first  time  for  weeks 
past  a  sentiment  of  fear  crept  through  me.  "  Are  we  to 
be  tried  without  having  a  list  of  the  charges  alleged 
against  us  ?  " 

'  You'll  hear  them  time  enough  in  court." 

'  Without  an  advocate  to  defend  us." 

*  The  president  will  name  one  for  that  purpose.*' 

'  And  can  the  jury " 

'  Jury !  there  is  no  jury ;  the  Consul  has  suspended 
trial  by  jury  for  two  years.  Come,  come,  don't  be  down- 
hearted— your  friends  without  are  singing  away  as  gaily 
as  though  it  were  a  festival.  My  faith,  that  General 
George  is  made  of  iron,  I  believe.  He  has  been  confined 
au  secret  these  ten  days — his  rations  diminished  to  almost 
H  starvation  level;  and  yet  there  is  he  now,  with  his 
tountenance  as  calm,  and  his  look  as  firm,  as  if  he  were 
At  large  on  the  hills  of  La  Vendee.  Cheer  up,  then — let 
the  example  of  your  chief " 

"  Chief!  he  is  no  chief  of  mine.** 

"  That's  as  it  may,  or  may  not  be,"  replied  he,  gruffly, 
as  though  wounded  by  what  he  deemed  a  want  of  confi- 
dence in  his  honour ;  "  however,  make  haste  and  dress, 
for  the  carriages  will  be  here  to  convey  you  to  the  Palais 
— and  there  now  are  the  gendarmes  d'Slite  assembling  in 
the  court." 


THE  REIGN  OF  TERROR  UNDER  THE  CONSULATE.       841 

As  I  proceeded  to  dress,  T  could  see  from  the  window 
of  my  cell  that  a  squadron  of  gendarmes,  in  full  uniform, 
were  drawn  up  in  the  square  of  the  prison,  along  one  side 
of  which  were  several  carriages  standing,  each  with  two 
gendarmes  seated  on  the  box.  The  prisoners  were  confined 
to  their  walls  ;  but  at  every  window  some  face  appeared 
peering  anxiously  at  the  proceedings  beneath,  and  watch- 
ing, with  inquisitive  gaze,  every,  even  the  slightest, 
movement. 

Just  as  the  clock  struck  nine  the  door  of  my  cell  was 
opened,  and  a  greffier  of  the  court  entered,  and,  taking 
from  a  black  portmanteau  at  his  side  a  roll  of  paper,  began, 
without  delay,  to  repeat  in  a  sing-song  recitative  tone  a 
formal  summons  of  the  Grand  Tribunal  for  the  "  surrender 
of  the  body  of  Thomas  Burke,  sous-lieutenant  of  the 
kuifieme  hussars,  now  in  the  prison  of  the  Temple,  and 
iccused  of  the  crime  of  treason." 

The  last  word  made  me  shudder  as  it  fell  from  him  ; 
And  not  all  my  stoical  indifference  of  weeks  past  was 
proof  against  such  an  accusation.  The  gaoler  having 
formally  listened  to  the  document,  and  replied  by  reading 
aloud  another,  delivered  me  over  to  the  officer,  who  de- 
jired  me  to  follow  him. 

In  the  court  beneath  the  greater  number  of  the  prisoners 
were  already  assembled.  George,  among  the  number, 
was  conspicuouH,  not  only  by  his  size  and  proportions, 
but  by  a  handsome  uniform,  in  the  breast  of  which  he 
wore  his  decoration  of  St.  Louis,  from  which  descended  a 
bright  bow  of  crimson  ribbon.  A  slight  bustle  at  one  of 
the  doorways-  of  the  tower  suddenly  seemed  to  attract  his 
attention,  and  I  saw  that  he  turned  quickly  round,  and 
forced  his  way  through  the  crowd  to  the  place.  Eager  to 
learn  what  it  was,  I  followed  him  at  once.  Pushing  with 
some  difficulty  forward,  I  reached  the  doorway,  on  the  step 
of  which  lay  a  young  man  in  a  fainting  fit.  His  face, 
pale  as  death,  had  no  colour  save  two  dark  circles  round 
the  eyes,  which,  though  open,  were  upturned  and  filmy. 
His  cravat  had  been  hastily  removed  by  some  of  the  by- 
etanders,  and  showed  a  purple  welt  around  his  neck,  on 
one  side  of  which  a  mass  of  blood  escaping  beneath  the 
skin,  made  a  dreadful-looking  tumour.  His  dress  denoted 
a  person  of  condition,  as  well  as  the  character  of  his  fea- 

Vol.  28— (12) 


842  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

tures  ;  but  never  had  I  looked  upon  an  object  so  sad  and 
woe-begone  before.  At  his  side  knelt  George — his  strong 
arm  round  his  back,  while  his  great  massive  hand  patted 
the  water  on  his  brow.  The  stern  features  of  the  hardy 
Breton,  which  ever  before  had  conveyed  to  me  nothing  but 
daring  and  impetuous  passion,  were  softened  to  a  look  of 
womanly  kindliness — his  blue  eye  beaming  as  softly  as 
though  it  were  a  mother  leaning  over  her  infant. 

"  Bouvet,  my  dear,  dear  boy,  remember  thou  art  a  Breton 
— rally  thyself,  my  child — bethink  thee  of  the  cause." 

The  name  of  the  youth  at  once  recalled  him  whom  I  had 
seen  some  months  before  among  the  Chouan  prisoners  ;  and 
who,  sad  and  sickly  as  he  then  seemed,  was  now  much 
further  gone  towards  the  tomb. 

"  Bouvet,"  cried  George,  in  an  accent  of  heartrending 
sorrow,  "  this  will  disgrace  us  for  ever." 

The  youth  turned  his  cold  eyes  round  till  they  wei%e  fixed 
on  the  other's  face  ;  while  his  lips,  still  parted,  and  his 
cheek  pale  and  flattened,  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a 
corpse  suddenly  called  back  to  life. 

"  There,  my  own  brave  boy,"  said  George,  kissing  his 
forehead — "  there,  thou  art  thyself  again."  He  bent  over 
till  his  lips  nearly  touched  the  youth's  ear,  and  then  whis- 
pered'— "  Dost  thou  forget  the  last  words  Monsieur  spoke 
to  thee,  Bouvet  ?— • '  Conserve-toi  pour  tes  amis,  et  contre 
nos  ennemis  communs.'  " 

The  boy  started  up  at  the  sounds,  and  looked  wildly 
about  him,  while  his  hands  were  open  wide  with  a  kind  of 
spasmodic  motion. 

"  Tonnerre  de  ctel  I "  cried  George,  with  frantic  passion, 
"  what  have  they  done  with  him — his  mind  is  gone. 
Bouvet — Bouvet  de  Lozier — knowest  thou  this?"  He 
tore  from  his  bosom  a  miniature,  surrounded  with  large 
brilliants,  and  held  it  to  the  eyes  of  the  youth. 

A  wild  shriek  broke  frome  the  youth  as  he  fell  back  in 
strong  convulsions.  The  dreadful  cry  seemed  like  the  last 
wail  of  expiring  reason — so  sad,  so  piercing  was  its  cadence. 

"  Look,  see,"  said  George,  turning  a  savage  scowl  upon 
the  crowd,  "  they  have  taken  away  his  mind — he  is  an 
idiot." 

"The  General  George  Cadoudal,"  cried  a  loud  vrice 
from  t>  e  centre  of  the  court. 


THE  REIGN  OF  TERROR  UNDER  THE  CONSULATE.       343 

"  Here,"  was  the  firm  reply. 

*'  This  way,  sir — the  carriage  yonder." 

*'  Monsieur  Sol  de  Gisolles." 

"  Here,"  replied  a  tall,  aristocratic-looking  personage, 
in  deep  mourning. 

Sous-Lieutenant  Burke  was  next  called,  and  I  followed 
the  others,  and  soon  found  myself  seated  in  a  close  caleche, 
with  a  gendarme  beside  me,  while  two  mounted  men  of  the 
corps  sat  at  either  side  of  the  carriage  with  drawn  swords. 
Picot,  the  servant  of  George,  the  faithful  Breton,  was  next 
summoned,  and  Lebourgeois,  an  old  but  handsome  man,  in 
the  simple  habit  of  a  farmer,  with  his  long  white  hair, 
and  soft  kind  countenance.  Many  other  names  were 
called  over,  and  nearly  an  hour  elapsed  before  the  cere- 
mony was  concluded,  and  the  order  was  given  to  move 
forward. 

At  last  the  heavy  gates  were  opened,  and  the  procession 
issued  forth.  I  was  surprised  to  see  that  the  entire 
Boulevard  was  lined  with  troops,  behind  which  thousands 
of  people  were  closely  wedged — all  the  windows,  and  even 
the  house-tops,  being  filled  with  spectators. 

When  we  reached  the  quays,  the  crowd  was  greater 
still ;  and  it  required  all  the  efforts  of  the  troops  to  keep 
it  back  sufficiently  to  permit  an  open  space  for  the 
carriages — while  at  all  the  streets  that  opened  at  the 
quays,  mounted  dragoons  were  stationed,  to  prevent  any 
carriage  passing  down.  Never  had  I  beheld  such  a  vast 
multitude  of  people ;  and  yet,  through  all  that  crowded 
host,  a  deep,  solemn  silence  prevailed — not  a  cry  nor  a 
shout  was  heard  in  all  the  way.  Once  only,  at  the  corner 
of  the  Pont  Neuf,  a  cry  of  "  Vive  Moreau  !  "  was  given  by 
some  one  in  the  crowd  ;  but  it  was  a  solitary  voice — and 
the  moment  after  I  saw  a  gendarme  force  his  way  through 
the  mass,  and  seizing  a  miserable-looking  creature  by  the 
neck,  hurry  him  along  beside  his  horse  towards  the  guard- 
house. 

On  crossing  the  bridge,  I  saw  that  a  company  of  artillery 
and  two  guns  were  placed  in  position  beside  Desaix's 
monument,  so  as  to  command  the  Pont  Neuf:  all  tuese 
preparations  clearly  indicating  that  the  Government  felt 
the  occasion  such  as  to  warrant  the  most  energetic 
measures  of  security.  There  was  something  in  the  earnest 


844  TOM   BURKE   OF   "  OURS.** 

look  of  the  cannoniers,  as  they  stood  with  their  lighted 
matches  beside  the  guns,  that  betrayed  the  resolve  of  one 
whose  quick  determination  was  ever  ready  for  the  moment 
of  danger. 

The  narrow  streets  of  the  Isle  St.  Louis,  more  densely 
crowded  than  any  part  of  the  way,  slackened  our  pace 
considerably,  and  frequently  the  gendarmes  were  obliged 
to  clear  the  space  before  the  carriages  could  proceed.  I 
could  not  help  feeling  struck,  as  we  passed  along  these 
miserable  and  dark  alleys — where  vice  and  crime,  and 
wretchedness  of  every  type,  herded  together — to  hear,  at 
every  step,  some  expressions  of  pity  or  commiseration 
from  those  who,  themselves,  seemed  the  veriest  objects  of 
compassion.  "  Ah,  voila"  cried  an  old  creature  in  rags, 
on  whose  cotton  bonnet  a  faded  and  dirty  tricolored 
ribbon  was  fastened — "  voila  Moreau  !  I'd  know  his  proud 
face  any  day.  Poor  general,  1  hope  it  will  not  go  hard 
with  you  to-day !  " 

"  Look  there,"  screamed  a  hag,  as  the  carriage  in  which 
Bouvet  sat  passed  by.  "  Look  at  the  handsome  youth 
that's  dying — Holy  Virgin  !  he'll  not  be  living  when  they 
reach  the  gate  of  the  Palais !  "  "  And  there,"  cried 
another,  "  there's  a  hussar  officer,  pale  enough,  I  trow  he 
is ;  come,  I'll  say  a  prayer  or  two  for  him  there,  it  can  do 
him  no  harm  anyhow." 

The  hoarse  rattle  of  a  drum  in  front  mingled  with  the 
noise  of  the  cavalcade,  and  I  now  could  hear  the  clank  of 
a  guard  turning  out.  The  minute  after  we  stood  before 
a  colossal  gateway,  whose  rich  tracery  shone  in  the  most 
gorgeous  gilding ;  it  was  in  the  splendid  taste  of 
Louis  XIV.,  and  well  became  the  entrance  of  what  once 
had  been  a  royal  palace.  "Alas!"  thought  I,  '*how 
unlike  those  who  once  trod  this  wide  court  is  the 
melancholy  cortege  that  now  enters  it." 

As  each  carriage  drew  up  at  the  foot  of  a  wide  flight  of 
stone  steps,  the  prisoners  descended,  and,  escorted  by 
gendarmes  on  each  side,  were  led  into  the  building.  When 
all  had  reached  the  hall,  the  order  was  given  to  move 
forward,  and  we  walked  on  till  we  came  to  a  lon^  gallery. 
On  either  side  was  a  range  of  massive  pillars,  between 
which  views  were  obtained  of  various  spacious  but  dimly- 
lighted  chambers,  apparently  neglected  and  unused  ;  some 


THE  REION  OP  TERROR  UNDER  THE  CONSULATE.    345 

benches  here  and  there,  an  old  cabinet,  and  a  deal  table, 
were  all  the  furniture.  Here  we  halted  for  a  few  moments, 
till  a  door  opening  at  the  extreme  end,  a  sign  was  made  for 
us  to  advance,  and  now  we  heard  a  low  rushing  sound,  like 
the  distant  breaking  of  the  sea  in  a  calm  night.  It  grew 
louder  as  we  went,  till  we  could  mark  the  mingling  of 
several  hundred  voices,  as  they  conversed  in  a  subdued 
and  under  tone. 

Then,  indeed,  a  dreadful  thrill  ran  through  me,  as  I 
thought  of  the  countless  mass  before  whom  I  was  to  stand 
forth  a  criminal,  and  it  needed  every  effort  in  my  power 
to  keep  my  feet. 

A  heavy  curtain  of  dark  cloth  yet  separated  us  from  a 
view  of  the  court,  but  we  could  hear  the  voice  of  the 
president  commanding  silence,  and  the  monotonous  intona- 
tion of  the  clerk  reading  the  order  for  the  proceedings. 
This  concluded,  a  deep  voice  called  out,  "  Introduce  the 
prisoners,"  and  the  words  were  repeated  still  louder  by  a 
huissier  at  the  entrance ;  and  at  a  signal  the  line  moved 
forward,  the  curtain  was  drawn  back,  and  we  advanced 
into  the  court. 

The  crowd  of  faces  that  filled  the  vast  space  from  the 
body  of  the  court  below  to  the  galleries  above,  turned,  as 
we  passed  on  to  the  bench,  at  one  side  of  the  raised 
platform,  near  the  seat  of  the  judges.  A  similar  bench, 
but  unoccupied,  ran  along  the  opposite  side,  while  directly 
in  front  of  the  judges  were  ranged  the  advocates  in  rows 
closely  packed  as  fhey  could  sit ;  a  small  desk,  somewhat 
advanced  from  tne  *&&'*,  being  the  seat  reserved  for  the 
Procureur- General  of  the  court. 

The  vast  multitude  of  spectators — the  pomp  and  cir- 
cumstance of  a  court  of  justice — the  solemn  look  of  the 
judges,  arrayed  in  their  dark  robes  and  square  black 
caps,  reminding  one  of  the  officers  of  the  Inquisition,  as  we 
see  them  in  old  paintings — the  silence  where  so  many 
were  assembled — all  struck  me  with  awe,  and  I  scarcely 
dared  to  look  up,  lest  in  the  glances  bent  upon  me  1  should 
meet  some  whose  looks  might  seem  to  condemn  me. 
"  Proclaim  the  seance"  said  the  President. 
And  with  a  loud  voice  the  huissier  of  the  court  made 
proclamation  that  the  tribunal  had  commenced  its  sitting. 
This  concluded,  the  Procureur- General  proceeded  to  read 


846  TOM   BURKE   OF   "  OURS.** 

the  names  of  the  accused,  beginning  with  General  Moreau, 
Armand  de  Polignac,  Charles  de  Riviere,  Sol  de  Gisolles, 
George  Cadoudal,  and  some  twenty  others  of  less  note, 
among  which  I  heard  with  a  sinking  heart  my  own  name 
pronounced.  Some  customary  formalities  seemed  now  to 
occupy  the  court  for  a  considerable  time  ;  after  which,  the 
huisaier  called  silence  once  more. 

"  General  Moreau,"  said  the  President,  in  a  deep  voice 
that  was  heard  throughout  the  entire  court.  "  Rise  up, 
sir,"  added  he,  after  a  few  seconds'  pause.  I  looked  down 
the  bench,  at  the  farthest  end  of  which  1  saw  the  tall  and 
well-knit  figure  of  a  man  in  the  uniform  of  a  general  of 
the  Republic ;  his  back  was  turned  towards  me,  but  his 
bearing  and  carriage  were  quite  enough  to  distinguish  the 
soldier. 

"  Your  name  and  surname,"  said  the  President. 

Before  an  answer  could  be  returned,  a  dull  sound,  like 
something  heavy  falling,  resounded  through  the  court, 
and  in  an  instant  several  persons  around  me  stood  up.  I 
bent  forward  to  see,  and  beheld  the  figure  of  Bouvet  de 
Lozier  stretched  insensible  upon  the  ground ;  beside  him 
his  faithful  friend  George  was  stooping,  and  endeavouring 
to  open  his  vest  to  give  him  air. 

"  Bring  some  water  here  quickly,"  cried  the  hardy 
Breton,  in  a  tone  that  showed  little  respect  for  where  he 
stood.  "  Your  absurd  ceremonial  has  frightened  the  poor 
boy  out  of  his  senses." 

"  Respect  the  court,  sir,  or  I  commit  you!"  said  the 
President,  in  a  voice  of  anger. 

A  contemptuous  look,  followed  by  a  still  more  con- 
temptuous shrug  of  the  shoulders,  was  his  reply. 

"  Remove  the  prisoner,"  said  the  President,  pointing  to 
the  still  fainting  youth,  "  and  proclaim  silence  in  the 
court." 

The  officers  of  the  tribunal  carried  the  death-like 
figure  of  the  boy  down  the  steps,  and  bore  him  to  some 
of  the  chambers  near. 

This  little  incident,  slight  and  passing  as  it  was,  seemed 
much  to  affect  the  auditory,  and  it  was  some  time  before 
perfect  silence  could  be  again  restored. 

"  So  much  for  the  regime  of  the  Temple,"  said  George, 
aloud,  as  he  looked  after  the  insensible  form  of  his  friend. 


THE  REIGN  OF  TERROR  UNDER  THE  CONSULATE.    84? 

"  Silence,  sir !  "  cried  one  of  the  judges,  M.  Thuriot,  a 
harsh  and  severe-looking  man,  whose  hatted  to  the  pri- 
soners was  the  subject  of  much  conversation  in  the  prison. 

"  Ah,  it  is  you,  Tue-Roi  !  "  cried  George,  punning  upon 
his  name,  for  he  had  been  one  of  the  regicides.  "  You, 
there — I  thought  they  had  found  you  out  long  ere  this." 

A  burst  of  laughter  that  nothing  could  repress  broke 
through  the  crowded  court,  and  it  was  not  until  some  five 
or  six  persons  were  forcibly  removed  by  the  gendarmes 
that  order  was  again  restored. 

"  Read  the  act  of  accusation,"  said  the  President,  in  a 
deep  solemn  voice. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Republic,  one  and  indivi- 
sible  " 

"  Monsieur  le  President,"  interrupted  the  Procurenr- 
General,  "  I  would  submit  to  the  court  that,  as  in  the 
first  accusation  there  are  several  of  the  prisoners  not  in- 
cluded, they  should  not  remain  during  the  recital  of  the 
indictment." 

A  conversation  of  some  minutes  now  took  place  between 
the  judges,  during  which  again  the  silence  was  unbroken 
in  the  court.  I  turned  gladly  from  the  gaze  of  the 
thousand  spectators  to  the  bench  where  my  fellow-pri- 
soners were  seated ;  and,  however  varied  by  age,  rank, 
and  occupation,  there  seemed  but  one  feeling  amongst 
them — a  hardy  and  resolute  spirit  to  brave  every  danger 
without  flinching. 

"  Which  of  the  prisoners  are  not  accused  under  the 
first  act  ?  "  said  Thuriot. 

"  Charles  Aa6"_"»-  ^.ebarde,  dit  le  Noir,  Guillaume 
Lebarte,  and  Thomas  Burke,  Sous-Lieutenant  in  the  8th 
Regiment  of  Hussars." 

"  Let  them  withdraw,"  said  the  President. 

A  slight  bustle  ensued  in  the  body  of  the  court  as  the 
gendarmes  advanced  to  make  a  passage  for  our  exit ;  and 
for  a  moment  1  could  perceive  that  the  attention  of  the 
assembly  was  drawn  towards  us.  One  by  one  we  descended 
to  the  platform,  and,  with  a  gendarme  on  either  side,  pro- 
ceeded to  pass  out,  when  suddenly  the  deep,  mellow  voice 
of  Cadoudal  called  out  aloud, — 

"  Adieu,  my  fri«nds,  adieu !  If  we  are  not  to  be  better 
treated  than  our  prince,  \rs  shall  never  see  you  again." 


348  TOM  BUBKB  OP  "  OUB8." 

"  Silence,  sii ! "  cried  the  President,  severely ;  and 
then,  turning  towards  the  bar  of  advocates,  he  continued, 
"  If  that  man  have  an  advocate  in  this  court,  it  would 
well  become  him  to  warn  his  client  that  such  continued 
insult  to  the  tribunal  can  only  prejudice  his  cause." 

"  I  have  none,  and  I  wish  for  none,"  replied  George,  in 
a  tone  of  defiance.  "  This  mockery  is  but  the  first  step 
of  the  guillotine,  and  I  can  walk  it  without  assistance." 

A  renewed  call  of  "  Silence ! "  and  a  deep  murmur 
through  the  assembly,  was  all  I  heard,  as  the  door  of  the 
court  opened  and  closed  behind  us.  As  we  marched 
along  a  low  vaulted  corridor  the  sounds  of  the  court 
grew  fainter  and  fainter ;  and  at  last  the  echoes  of  our 
own  steps  were  the  only  noises. 

The  room  to  which  we  were  conducted  was  a  small 
whitewashed  chamber,  around  which  ran  a  bench  of  un- 
painted  wood.  A  deal  table  stood  in  the  centre,  on  which 
was  a  common-looking  earthenware  jar  of  water,  and 
some  tin  goblets.  The  window  was  several  feet  from 
the  ground,  and  strongly  barred  with  iron. 

"  La  salle  d'attente  is  gloomy  enough,"  said  one  of  my 
companions,  "  and  yet  some  of  us  may  be  very  sorry  to 
leave  it." 

"  Not  I,  at  least,"  cried  the  other,  resolutely.  "  The 
basket  beneath  the  guillotine  will  be  an  easier  couch  than 
I  have  slept  on  these  three  months." 


849 


CHAPTER    XXXVL 

THE    "PAIAIS  DB  JUSTICE." 

"  IT  will  go  bard  with  Moreau  to-day,"  said  the  elder  of 
the  two  prisoners — a  large,  swarthy-looking  Breton,  in 
the  dress  of  a  sailor  ;  "  the  Consul  hates  him." 

"  Whom  does  he  not  hate  ?"  said  the  younger — a  slight 
and  handsome  youth.  "  Whom  does  he  not  hate  that  ever 
rivalled  him  in  glory  ?  What  love  did  he  bear  to  Kleber 
or  Desaix  p" 

"  It  is  false,"  said  I,  fiercely.  "  Bonaparte's  greatness 
stands  far  too  high  to  feel  such  rivalry  as  theirs — the  con- 
queror of  Italy  and  of  Egypt " 

"  Is  a  Corsican,"  interrupted  the  elder. 

"  And  a  tyrant,"  rejoined  the  other,  in  the  same  breath. 

"  These  words  become  you  well,"  said,  I  bitterly ; 
"  would  that  no  stain  lay  on  ruy  honour,  and  I  could  make 
you  eat  them." 

"  And  who  are  you  that  dare  to  speak  thus  ?  "  said  the 
younger  ;  "  or  how  came  one  like  you  mixed  up  with  men 
whose  hearts  were  in  a  great  cause,  and  who  came  to  sell 
their  lives  upon  it  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you,  boy,"  broke  in  the  elder,  in  a  slow  and 
measured  tone,  "  I  have  made  more  stalwart  limbs  than 
thine  bend,  and  stronger  joints  crack,  for  less  than  thou 
hast  ventured  to  tell  us;  but  sorrow  and  suffering  are 
hard  masters,  and  I  can  bear  more  now  than.  I  was  wont 
to  do.  Let  us  have  no  more  words." 

As  he  spoke,  he  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand,  and 
turned  towards  the  wall;  the  other,  too,  sat  down  in  a 
corner  of  the  cell,  and  was  silent,  and  thus  we  remained 
for  hours  long. 

The  dreary  stillness,  made  more  depressing  by  the  pre- 
sence of  the  two  prisoners,  whose  deep-drawn  breathings 
were  the  only  sounds  they  uttered,  had  something  on- 


850  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

speakably  sad  and  melancholy  in  it,  and  more  than  once  1 
felt  sorry  for  the  few  words  I  had  spoken,  which  separated 
those  whose  misfortunes  should  have  made  them  brothers. 

A  confused  and  distant  hum,  swelling  and  falling  at 
intervals,  now  filled  the  air ;  and  gradually  I  could  dis- 
tinguish the  shouts  of  people  at  a  distance.  This  in- 
creased as  it  came  nearer,  and  then  I  heard  the  tramping 
noise  of  many  feet,  and  of  a  great  multitude  of  people 
passing  in  the  street  below,  and  suddenly  a  wild  cheer 
broke  forth — "Vive  le  Consul!"  "Vive  Bonaparte!" 
followed  the  next  instant  by  the  clanking  sound  of  a 
cavalry  escort,  while  the  cry  grew  louder  and  louder,  and 
the  vivas  drowned  all  other  sounds. 

"You  hear  them,  Guillaume,  you  hear  them,"  said  the 
sailor  to  the  other  prisoner.  "  That  shout  is  our  death- 
cry.  Bonaparte  comes  not  here  to-day  but  to  see  his 
judges  do  his  bidding." 

"  What  care  I  ?  "  said  the  other,  fiercely.  "  The  guil- 
lotine or  the  sabre,  the  axe  or  the  bayonet — it  is  all  one. 
We  knew  what  must  come  of  it." 

The  door  opened  as  he  spoke,  and  a  greffier  of  the 
tribunal  appeared  with  four  gendarmes. 

"  Come,  messieurs,"  said  he,  "  the  c  jurt  is  waiting  for 
you." 

"  And  how  go  matters  without,  sir  ?  "  said  the  elder,  in 
an  easy  tone. 

"  Badly  for  the  prisoners,"  said  the  greffier,  shaking  his 
head  ;  "  Monsieur  Moreau,  the  general's  brother,  has  done 
much  injury — he  has  insulted  the  Consul." 

"  Bravely  done  !  "  cried  the  younger  man,  with  enthu- 
siasm. "  It  is  well  he  should  hear  truth  one  day,  though 
the  tongue  that  uttered  it  should  be  cold  the  next." 

"  Move  on,  sir,"  said  the  greffier,  sternly.  "  Not  you," 
added  he,  as  I  pressed  forward  after  the  rest.  "  Tour 
time  has  not  come." 

"  Would  that  it  had,"  said  I,  as  the  door  closed  upon 
me,  and  I  was  left  in  total  solitude. 

The  day  was  over,  and  the  evening  already  late,  when 
a  turnkey  appeared,  and  desired  me  to  follow  him.  A 
moody  indifference  to  everything  had  settled  on  me,  and 
I  never  spoke,  as  I  walked  behind  him  down  corridor  after 
corridor,  and  across  a  court,  into  a  large,  massive-looking 


THE    "  PALAIS    DE   JUSTICE."  851 

building,  whose  grated  windows  and  strongly-barred  doors 
reminded  me  of  the  Temple. 

"  Here  is  your  cell,"  said  he,  roughly,  as  he  unlocked 
a  low  door  near  the  entrance. 

"  It  is  gloomy  enough,"  said  I,  with  a  sad  smile. 

"  And  yet  many  have  shed  tears  to  leave  it  before  now," 
rejoined  he,  with  a  savage  twinkle  of  his  small  eyes. 

I  was  glad  when  the  hoarse  crash  of  the  closed  door 
told  me  I  was  alone,  and  I  threw  myself  upon  my  bed  and 
buried  my  face  in  my  hands. 

There  is  a  state  which  is  not  sleep,  and  yet  is  akin  to 
it,  into  which  grief  can  bring  us — a  half-dreary  stupor, 
where  only  sorrows  are  felt,  and  even  they  come  dulled 
and  blunted,  as  if  time  and  years  had  softened  down  their 
sting.  But  no  ray  of  hope  shines  there — a  dreary  waste, 
without  a  star ;  the  cold,  dark  sea,  boundless  and  bleak, 
is  not  more  saddening  than  life  then  seems  before  us. 
There  is  neither  path  to  follow  nor  goal  to  reach,  and  an 
apathy  worse  than  death  creeps  over  all  our  faculties ;  and 
yet,  when  we  awake,  we  wish  for  this  again.  Into  this 
state  I  sank,  and  when  morning  came  felt  sorry  that  the 
light  should  shine  into  my  narrow  cell,  and  rouse  me  from 
my  stupor.  When  the  turnkey  entered  to  bring  me 
breakfast,  I  turned  towards  the  wall,  and  trembled  lest  he 
should  speak  to  me  ;  and  it  was  with  a  strange  thrill  I 
heard  the  door  close  as  he  went  out.  The  abandonment 
of  one's  sorrow — that  daily,  hourly  indulgence  in  grief, 
which  the  uncheered  solitude  of  a  prison  begets — soon 
brings  the  mind  to  the  narrow  range  of  one  or  two  topics. 
With  the  death  of  hope  all  fancy  and  imagination  perish 
— the  springs  of  all  speculation  are  dried  up — and  every 
faculty  bent  towards  one  point — the  reason,  like  a  limb 
unexercised,  wastes  and  pines,  and  becomes  paralyzed. 

Now  and  then  the  thought  would  flash  across  me, 
"  What  if  this  were  madness  ? "  and  I  shuddered  not  at 
the  thought :  such  had  my  prison  made  me. 

Four  days  and  nights  passed  over  thus — a  long,  mo- 
notonous dream,  in  which  I  counted  not  the  time,  and  I 
lay  upon  my  straw-bed  watching  the  expiring  light  of  the 
candle  with,  that  strange  interest  one  attaches  to  every- 
thing within  the  limits  of  a  prison-cell.  The  flame  waned 
and  flickered :  now  lighting  up  for  a  second  the  cold 


852  TOM  BUBO  OF  "  OUES.M 

grey  walls,  scratched  with  many  a  prisoner's  name  ;  now 
subsiding,  it  threw  strange  and  fitful  shapes  upon  them — 
figures  that  seemed  to  move  and  to  beckon  to  each  other 
— goblin  outlines,  wild  and  fanciful ;  then  came  a  bright 
flash  as  the  wick  fell,  and  all  was  dark. 

"  If  the  dead  do  but  sleep  !  "  was  the  first  thought  that 
crossed  my  mind  as  the  gloom  of  total  night  wrapped 
every  object  about  me,  and  a  stillness  most  appalling  pre- 
vailed. Suddenly  I  heard  the  sounds  of  a  heavy  bolt 
withdrawn,  and  a  door  opening,  then  a  low,  rushing  noise, 
like  wind  blowing  through  a  narrow  corridor,  and  at  last 
the  marching  sounds  of  feet,  and  the  accents  of  men 
speaking  together ;  nearer  and  nearer  they  came,  and  at 
length  halted  at  the  door  of  my  cell.  A  cold,  faint 
feeling — the  sickness  of  the  heart — crept  over  me  ;  the 
hour — the  sounds  reminded  me  of  what  so  often  I  had 
heard  men  speak  of  in  the  Temple,  and  the  dread  of  assas- 
sination made  me  tremble  from  head  to  foot.  The  light 
streamed  from  beneath  the  door,  and  reached  to  my  bed  ; 
and  I  calculated  the  number  of  steps  it  would  take  before 
they  approached  me.  The  key  grated  in  the  lock,  and  the 
door  opened  slowly,  and  three  men  stood  at  the  entrance. 
I  sprang  up  wildly  to  my  feet — a  sudden  impulse  of  self- 
defence  seized  me — and,  with  a  wild  shout  for  them  to 
come  on,  I  rushed  forward ;  my  foot,  however,  caught  the 
angle  of  the  iron  bedstead,  and  I  fell  headlong  and  sense- 
less to  the  ground.  Some  interval  elapsed ;  and,  when 
next  I  felt  consciousness,  I  was  lying  full  length  on  my 
bed — the  cell  lit  up  by  two  candles  on  the  table,  beside 
which  sat  two  men,  their  heads  bent  eagerly  over  a  mass  of 
papers  before  them.  One  was  an  old  and  venerable-look- 
ing man,  his  white  hair  and  long  queue  so  bespeaking 
him  ;  he  wore  a  loose  cloth  cloak  that  covered  his  entire 
figure,  but  I  could  see  that  a  brass  scabbard  of  a  sword 
projected  beneath  it ;  on  the  chair  beside  him,  too,  there 
lay  a  foraging-cap.  The  other,  much  younger,  though  still 
not  in  youth,  was  a  thin,  pale,  careworn  man  ;  his  forehead 
was  high,  and  strongly  marked ;  and  there  was  an  inten- 
sity and  determination  in  his  brow  and  about  the  angles 
of  his  mouth  most  striking ;  he  was  dressed  in  black,  with 
deep  ruffles  at  his  wrist. 

"  It  is  quite  clear,  general."  said  he,  in  a  low  and  mea- 


NAPOLEON  SHOWS  TOM  THE  DOOR 
t —  Volume    Twenty-eight 


THB  "PALAIS  DE  JUSTICE." 

sured  voice,  where  each  word  fell  with  perfect  distinctness 
— "  it  is  quite  clear  that  they  can  press  a  conviction  here 
if  they  will.  The  allegations  are  so  contrived  as  rather  to 
indicate  complicity  than  actually  establish  it.  The  defence 
in  such  cases  has  to  combat  shadows,  not  overturn  facts  ; 
and,  believe  me,  a  procureur-general,  aided  by  a  police,  is  a 
dexterous  enemy." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  said  the  general,  rapidly, 
"  but  what  are  the  weak  points  ?  —  where  is  he  most 
assailable  ?  " 

"  Everywhere,"  said  the  other.  "  To  begin — the  secret 
information  of  the  outbreak  between  Lord  Whitworth  and 
the  Consul — the  frequent  meetings  with  the  Marquis  de 
Beauvais — the  false  report  to  the  chef  de  police — the  con- 
cealment of  this  abbe- By  the  bye,  I  am  not  quite 

clear  about  that  part  of  the  case ;  why  have  not  the  prose- 
cution brought  this  abbe  forward  ?  It  is  plain  they  have 
his  evidence,  and  can  produce  him  if  they  will :  and  I 
see  no  other  name  in  the  acfc  of  accusation  than  our  old 
acquaintance,  Mehee  de  la  Touche 

"  The  villain !  "  cried  the  general,  with  a  stamp  of  in- 
dignation, while  a  convulsive  spasm  seemed  to  shake  every 
fibre  of  his  frame. 

"  Mehee  de  la  Touche  !  "  said  I  to  myself.  "  I  have 
heard  that  name  before ; "  and  like  a  lightning  flash  it 
crossed  my  mind  that  such  was  the  name  of  the  man 
Marie  de  Meudon  charged  me  with  knowing. 

"  But  still,"  said  the  general,  "  what  can  they  make  of 
all  these  ?  that  of  indiscretion,  folly,  breach  of  discipline,  if 
you  will  ;  but " 

"  Wait  a  little,"  said  the  other,  quietly  ;  "  then  comes 
the  night  of  the  chateau,  in  which  he  is  found  among 
the  Chouan  party  in  their  very  den,  taking  part  in  the 
defence." 

"  No,  no  !  Lamoriciere,  who  commanded  the  cuirassiers, 
can  establish  the  fact  beyond  question — that  Burke  took 
no  part  in  the  affray,  and  delivered  his  sword  at  once 
when  called  on." 

"  At  least  they  found  him  there,  and  on  his  person  the 
brevet,  of  colonel,  signed  by  monsieur  himself." 

"  Of  that  I  can  give  no  explanation,"  replied  the 
general ;  "  but  I  am  in  possession  of  such  information  as 


354  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

can  account  for  his  presence  at  the  chateau,  and  establish 
his  innocence  on  that  point." 

" Indeed!"  cried  the  advocate,  for  such  he  was;  "  with 
that  much  may  be  done  " 

"  Unhappily,  however,"  rejoined  the  general,  "if  such  a 
disclosure  is  not  necessary  to  save  his  life,  I  cannot  ven- 
ture to  give  it ;  the  ruin  of  another  must  follow  the  ex- 
planation." 

"  Without  it  he  is  lost,"  said  the  advocate,  solemnly. 

"  And  would  not  accept  of  life  with  it,"  said  I,  boldly, 
as  1  started  up  in  my  bed,  and  looked  fixedly  at  them. 

The  general  sprang  back,  astonished  and  speechless  ? 
but  the  advocate,  with  more  command  over  his  emotions, 
cast  his  eyes  upon  the  paper  before  him,  and  quickly 
asked,  "  And  the  commission — how  do  you  account  for 
that  ?  " 

"  It  was  offered  to  and  refused  by  me.  He  who  made 
the  proposal  forgot  it  on  my  table,  and  I  was  about  to 
restore  it  when  I  was  made  prisoner." 

"  What  condition  was  attached  to  your  acceptance  of 
it?" 

"  Some  vague,  indistinct  proposals  were  made  to  me  to 
join  a  conspiracy  of  which  I  was  neither  told  the  object 
nor  intentions.  Indeed,  I  stopped  any  disclosure  by  re- 
jecting the  bribe." 

"  Who  made  these  same  proposals  ?  " 

"I  shall  not  tell  his  name." 

"  No  matter,"  said  the  advocate,  carelessly  ;  "  it  was 
the  Marquis  de  Beauvais  ; "  and  then,  as  if  affecting  to 
write,  I  saw  his  sharp  eyes  glance  over  towards  me,  while 
a  smile  of  gratified  cunning  twitched  his  lip.  "  You  will 
have  no  objection  to  say  hoiv  first  you  became  acquainted 
with  him  ?'" 

The  dexterity  of  this  query,  by  replying  to  which  I  at 
once  established  his  preceding  assumption,  completely 
escaped  me,  and  I  gave  an  account  of  my  first  meeting 
with  De  Beauvais,  without  ever  dreaming  of  the  infer- 
ences it  led  to. 

"  An  unhappy  rencontre,  sir,"  said  the  advocate,  as  if 
musing  ;  "  better  have  finished  the  intimacy,  as  you  first 
intended,  at  the  Bois  de  Boulogne." 

"  It  may  be  as  you  say,  sir,"  said  I,  irritated   by  the 


THE    "  PALAIS    DE    JUSTICE."  855 

flippancy  of  his  remark ;  "  but  perhaps  I  may  ask  the 
name  of  the  gentleman  who  takes  such  interest  in  my 
affairs,  and  by  what  right  he  meddles  in  them  ?  " 

The  general  started  back  in  his  chair,  and  was  about  to 
speak,  when  the  advocate  laid  his  hand  gently  on  his  arm 
to  restrain  him,  and,  in  a  voice  of  the  most  unruffled 
smoothness,  replied,  "  As  to  my  name,  sir,  it  is  Laurence 
Baillot ;  my  rank  is  simple  avocat  to  the  Cours  et  Tribu- 
naux ;  and  the  '  right '  by  which  I  interfere  in  matters 
personal  to  you  is  the  consideration  of  fifty  louis  which 
accompanied  this  brief." 

"And  my  name,  young  man,  is  Lieutenant- General 
d'Auvergne,"  said  the  old  man,  proudly,  as  he  stared  me 
steadfastly  in  the  face.  I  arose  at  once,  and  saluted  the 
general  with  a  deep  and  respectful  obeisance.  It  was  the 
same  officer  who  reviewed  us  at  the  Polytechnique  the  day 
of  my  promotion. 

"  You  are  now,  I  hope,  satisfied  with  the  reasons  of  our 
presence,  and  that  nothing  but  considerations  of  your 
interest  can  have  influenced  our  visit,"  said  the  avocat, 
with  calmness.  "  Such  being  the  case,  sit  down  here,  and 
relate  all  you  can  of  your  life  since  your  leaving  the  Poly- 
technique;  be  brief,  too,  for  it  is  now  three  o'clock— the 
court  opens  at  ten,  your  case  will  be  called  the  second, 
and  I  must  at  least  have  three  hours  of  sleep." 

The  general  pointed  to  a  seat  beside  him ;  I  sat  down, 
and  without  any  delay  proceeded  to  give  a  rapid  account 
of  all  my  adventures  and  proceedings  to  the  hour  we  were 
then  assembled,  only  omitting  all  mention  of  Made- 
moiselle de  Meudon's  name,  and  such  allusions  to  De 
Beauvais  as  might  lead  to  his  crimination. 

The  advocate  wrote  down,  as  rapidly  as  I  spoke  them, 
the  principal  details  of  my  history,  arid  when  I  had  con- 
cluded, perused  the  notes  he  had  taken  with  a  quick  eye. 
"  This  will  never  do,"  said  he,  with  more  impatience  in 
his  manner  than  I  had  yet  witnessed ;  "  here  are  a  mass 
of  circumstances  all  unexplained,  and  all  suspicious.  It 
is  now  entirely  a  question  of  the  feeling  of  the  court. 
The  charges,  if  pressed,  must  lead  to  a  conviction.  Your 
innocence,  sir,  may  satisfy  —  indeed,  it  has  satisfied — 
General  d'Auvergne,  who  else  had  not  been  here  thia 
oight,  but  the  proofs  are  not  before  us."  He  paused  for  a 


856  TOM   BUBKH   OF   "  OURS." 

moment,  and  then  continued  in  a  lower  tone,  addressing 
himself  directly  to  the  general :  "  We  must  entreat  a 
delay ;  a  day — two  days,  certainly — will  establish  the 
proofs  against  George  and  his  accomplices;  they  will  be 
condemned  and  executed  at  once.  It  is  most  likely  that 
the  court  will  not  recur  to  capital  punishment  again.  The 
example  being  made,  any  further  demonstration  will  be 
needless.  I  see  you  put  little  faith  in  this  manoeuvre ; 
but,  trust  me,  I  know  the  temper  of  the  tribunal ;  besides, 
the  political  stroke  has  already  succeeded.  Bonaparte  has 
conquered  all  his  enemies  ;  his  next  step  will  be  to  profit 
by  the  victory."  These  words  were  riddles  to  me  at  the 
time,  though  the  day  soon  came  when  their  meaning  was 
palpable.  Yes,  two  days  will  do  it,"  said  he,  confidently 
raising  his  voice  as  he  spoke;  "and  then,  whether  there 
be  a  hussa  the  more,  or  one  the  less,  in  France,  will  little 
trouble  the  current  of  events." 

"  Then  how  to  obtain  the  time — that  is  the  question," 
said  tho  general. 

"  Oh,  we  shall  try  something ;  there  can  always  be  a 
witness  to  be  called ;  some  evidence  all-essential  not 
forthcoming ;  some  necessary  proof  not  quite  unravelled. 
What  if  we  summoned  this  same  abbe  ?  The  court  will 
make  proclamation  for  him.  D'Ervan  is  the  name  ?  " 

"  Yes;  but  if  by  so  doing  he  may  be  involved " 

"  Fear  nothing  on  that  score ;  he'll  never  turn  up, 
believe  me.  We  can  affect  to  show  that  his  evidence  is 
all-important.  Yes,  we'll  make  the  Abbe  d'Ervan  our 
first  witness.  Where  shall  we  say  he  resides  ?  Rouen,  I 
suppose,  will  do.  Yes,  Rouen."  And  so,  without  wait- 
ing for  a  reply,  he  continued  to  write.  "  By  this,  you 
perceive,"  he  remarked,  "  we  shall  disconcert  their  plans. 
They  are  evidently  keeping  this  abbe  up  for  some  greater 
occasion;  they  have  a  case  against  himself,  perhaps,  in 
which  the  proofs  are  not  yet  sufficient  for  conviction. 
We'll  trouble  their  game,  and  they  may  be  glad  to  com- 
promise with  us." 

The  general  looked  as  much  confounded  as  myself  at 
these  schemes  of  the  lawyer,  but  we  both  were  silent. 

A  few  questions  more  followed,  to  which  he  wrote  down 
my  answers  as  I  gave  them,  and  then  starting  up,  he  said, 
"  And  now,  general,  I  must  hasten  home  to  bod.  Be 


THE    "PALAIS   DE   JtSttCfi.'*  857 

ready,  at  all  events,  for  appearing  before  the  tribunal,  Mr. 
Burke ;  at  ten  you  will  be  called,  and  so,  good  night." 
He  bowed  formally  to  me,  as  he  opened  the  door  to  permit 
the  general  to  pass  out  first. 

*  I'll  follow  you  in  a  moment,"  said  the  general,  while 
he  closed  the  door  after  him,  and  remained  behind  with 
me  in  the  cell.  "  It  was  only  this  evening,  sir,"  said  he, 
in  a  low  voice,  "  at  the  retfl  rn  of  Madame  Bonaparte  from 
Boulogne,  that  Mademoiselle  de  Meudon  learned  you  were 
not  at  liberty.  She  has  made  me  acquainted  with  the 
circumstances  by  which  your  present  risk  has  been  incurred, 
and  has  put  me  in  possession  of  wherewithal  to  establish 
your  innocence  as  regards  the  adventure  at  the  Chateau 
d'Ancre.  This  disclosure,  if  it  exculpates  you,  will  of 
course  criminate  tier,  and  among  those,  too,  where  she 
has  been  received  and  admitted  on  terms  of  the  closest 
friendship.  The  natural  desire  to  save  her  cousin's  life 
will  not  cover  the  act  by  which  so  horrible  a  conspiracy 
might  have  escaped  punishment.  Bonaparte  never  for- 
gives !  Now,  I  am  in  possession  of  this  proof,  and  if  you 
demand  it,  it  shall  be  in  your  keeping.  )  have  no  hesita- 
tion in  saying  that  the  other  charges  against  you  can 
t'asily  be  got  over — this  one  being  refuted.  What  do 
you  say  ?  " 

"  Nothing  could  make  me  accept  of  such  an  exculpa- 
tion," said  I,  resolutely ;  "  and  were  it  offered  in  spite  o\ 
me,  111  plead  guilty  to  the  whole  act,  and  suffer  with  the 
rest." 

The  old  man's  eyes  glistened  with  pleasure,  and  I 
thought  I  saw  a  tear  fall  on  his  cheek.  "  Now,"  cried  he, 
as  he  grasped  my  hand  in  both  his — "  now  I  feel  that  you 
are  innocent,  my  brave  boy,  and,  come  what  will,  I'll  stand 
by  you."  With  that  he  hurried  from  the  cell,  and  fol- 
lowed the  advocate,  who  was  already  calling  with  some 
impatience  to  have  the  doors  unlocked. 

I  was  again  alone.  No,  not  alone— for  in  my  narrow 
cell  hope  was  with  me  now. 


358  TOM    BUBKE    OF    '"  OUliS.' 


CHAPTER  XXXVIL 
•HB  "TRIAL." 

So  doubtful  was  the  Government  of  the  day  in  what  way 
the  people  of  Paris  would  be  disposed  to  regard  the  trial 
of  the  Chouan  prisoners,  how  far  public  sympathy  might 
side  with  misfortune  and  heroism,  and  in  what  way  they 
would  regard  Moreau,  whose  career  in  arms  so  many  had 
witnessed  with  pride  and  enthusiasm,  that  for  several  days 
they  did  not  dare  to  strike  the  decisive  blow  which  was  to 
establish  their  guilt,  but  advanced  with  slow  and  cautious 
steps,  gradually  accumulating  a  mass  of  small  circum- 
stances, on  which  the  Moniteur  each  day  commented,  and 
the  other  journals  of  less  authority  expatiated,  as  if  to 
prepare  the  public  mind  for  further  and  more  important 
revelations. 

At  last,  however,  the  day  arrived  in  which  the  mine  was 
to  be  sprung.  The  secret  police — whose  information 
extended  to  all  that  went  on  in  every  class  of  the  capital, 
and  who  knew  the  chit-chat  of  the  highest  circles,  equally 
as  they  did  the  grumblings  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine — 
pronounced  the  time  had  come  when  the  fatal  stroke 
might  no  longer  be  withheld,  and  when  the  long-destined 
vengeance  should  descend  on  their  devoted  heads. 

The  want  of  ener<ry  on  the  part  of  the  prosecution — the 
absence  of  important  witnesses,  and  of  all  direct  evidence 
whatever,  which  marked  the  first  four  days  of  the  trial, 
had  infused  a  high  hope  and  a  strong  sense  of  security 
into  the  prisoners'  hearts.  The  proofs  which  they  so 
much  dreaded,  and  of  whose  existence  they  well  knew, 
were  not  forthcoming  against  them.  The  rumoured 
treachery  of  some  of  their  party  began,  at  length,  to  lose 
its  terror  for  them — while  in  the  lax  and  careless  proceed- 
ings of  the  procureur-general  they  saw,  or  fancied  they 
saw,  a  desire  on  the  part  of  Government  to  render  the 
public  uninterested  spectators  of  the  scene,  and  thus 


TITE    "  TRIAL."  859 

prepare  the  way  for  an  acquittal,  while  no  danger  of  any 
excitement  existed. 

Such  was  the  state  of  matters  at  the  close  of  the  fourth 
day.  A  tiresome  and  desultory  discussion  on  some  merely 
legal  question  had  occupied  the  court  for  several  hours, 
and  many  of  the  spectators,  wearied  and  tired  out,  had 
gone  home  disappointed  in  their  expectations,  and  secretly 
resolving  not  to  return  the  following  day. 

This  was  the  moment  for  which  the  party  in  power  had 
been  waiting — the  interval  of  false  security,  as  it  would 
seem,  when  all  danger  was  past,  and  no  longer  any  ap- 
prehension existed.  The  sudden  shock  of  the  newly- 
discovered  proofs  would  then  come  with  peculiar  force, 
while,  no  matter  how  rapid  any  subsequent  step  might 
be,  all  charge  of  precipitancy  or  undue  haste  had  been 
disproved  by  the  tardy  nature  of  the  first  four  days' 
proceedings. 

For  the  change  of  scene  about  to  take  place  an  early 
edition  of  the  Moniteur  prepared  the  public  ;  and  by 
daybreak  the  walls  of  Paris  were  placarded  with  great- 
announcements  of  the  discoveries  made  by  the  Government 
— how,  by  their  untiring  efforts,  the  whole  plot,  which 
was  to  deluge  France  with  blood,  and  subvert  the  glorious 
institutions  of  freedom  they  had  acquired  by  the  Revolution, 
had  been  laid  open — new  and  convincing  evidence  of  the 
guilt  of  the  Chouans  had  turned  up — and  a  frightful 
picture  of  anarchy  and  social  disorganization  was  displayed, 
all  of  which  was  to  originate  in  an  effort  to  restore  the 
Bourbons  to  the  throne  of  France. 

While,  therefore,  the  galleries  of  the  court  were  crowded 
to  suffocation  at  an  early  hour,  and  every  avenue  leading 
to  the  tribunal  crammed  with  people,  anxious  to  be 
present  at  this  eventful  crisis,  the  prisoners  took  their 
places  on  the  "bench  of  the  accused,"  totally  unaware  of 
the  reason  of  the  excitement  they  witnessed,  and  strangely 
puzzled  to  conceive  what  unknown  circumstance  had 
reinvested  the  proceedings  with  a  new  interest. 

As  I  took  my  place  among  the  rest,  I  stared  with 
surprise  at  the  scene — the  strange  contrast  between  the 
thousands  there  whose  strained  eyes  and  feverish  faces 
betokened  the  highest  degree  of  excitement,  and  that  little 
group  on  which  every  look  was  turned — calm,  and  even 


860  TOM  BURKE   OP   "OUBS.** 

cheerful.  There  sat  George  Cadoudal  in  the  midst  of 
them,  his  hands  clasped  in  those  at  either  side  of  him ; 
his  strongly-marked  features  perfectly  at  rest,  arid  his  eyes 
bent  with  a  steady  stare  on  the  bench  where  the  judges 
were  seated.  Morean  was  not  present,  nor  did  I  see  some 
of  the  Chouans  whom  I  remembered  on  the  former  day. 

The  usual  formal  proclamation  of  the  court  being  made, 
silence  was  called  by  the  crier — a  useless  precaution,  as 
throughout  that  vast  assembly  not  a  whisper  was  to  be 
heard.  A  conversation  of  some  minutes  took  place 
between  the  Procureur  and  the  counsel  for  the  prisoners, 
in  which  I  recognized  the  voice  of  Monsieur  Baillot,  my 
own  advocate,  which  was  interrupted  by  the  President, 
desiring  that  the  proceedings  should  commence. 

The  Procureur-Gene'ral  bowed  and  took  his  seat,  while 
the  President,  turning  towards  George,  said, — 

"  George  Cadoudal,  you  have  hitherto  persisted  in  a 
course  of  blank  denial  regarding  every  circumstance  of 
the  conspiracy  with  which  you  are  charged.  You  have 
asserted  your  ignorance  of  persons  and  places  with  which 
we  are  provided  with  proof  to  show  you  are  well  acquainted. 
You  have  neither  accounted  for  your  presence  in  suspected 
situations,  nor  satisfactorily  shown  what  were  the  objects 
of  your  intimacy  with  suspected  individuals.  The  court 
now  desires  to  ask  you  whether,  at  this  stage  of  the 
proceedings,  you  wish  to  offer  more  explicit  revelations,  or 
explain  any  of  the  dubious  events  of  your  career  ?  " 

"  I  will  answer  any  question  you  put  to  me,"  replied 
George,  sternly ;  "  but  I  have  lived  too  long  in  another 
country  not  to  have  learned  some  of  its  usages,  and  I  feel 
no  desire  to  become  my  own  accuser.  Let  him  there  "  (he 
pointed  to  the  Procureur-General)  "  do  his  office — he  is  the 
paid  and  salaried  assailant  of  the  innocent." 

"  1  call  upon  the  court,"  said  the  Procureur,  rising, 
when  he  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  the  President, 
saying,  "  We  will  protect  you,  Monsieur  le  Procureur. 
And  once  again  we  would  admonish  the  accused,  that 
insolence  to  the  authorities  of  this  court  is  but  a  sorry 
plea  in  vindication  of  his  innocence,  and  shall  be  no 
recommendation  to  our  mercy." 

"  Your  mercy !  "  said  George,  in  a  voice  of  scorn  and 
sarcasm.  **  Who  ever  heard  of  a  tiger's  benevolence  or  a 


THE    "  TRIAL. 

wolfs  charity  ?  And  even  if  you  wished  it,  he  whose 
slaves  you  are " 

"  I  call  upon  you  to  be  silent,"  said  an  advocate,  rising 
from  a  bench  directly  behind  him.  "  Another  interruption 
of  this  kind,  and  I  shall  abandon  the  defence." 

"  What  ?  "  said  George,  turning  quickly  round  and 
staring  at  him  with  a  look  of  withering  contempt,  '*  and 
have  they  bought  you  over  too  ?  " 

"  Call  the  first  witness,"  said  the  President,  and  an 
indistinct  murmur  was  heard,  and  a  slight  confusion  seen 
to  agitate  the  crowd,  as  the  gendarmes  opened  a  path 
towards  the  witness  bench ;  and  then  I  saw  two  men  carry- 
ing something  between  them,  which  I  soon  perceived  to  be 
a  man.  The  legs,  which  were  alone  apparent,  hung  down 
listlessly  like  those  of  a  corpse,  and  one  a,rm,  which  fell  over 
the  shoulder  of  the  bearer,  moved  to  and  fro,  as  they  went, 
like  the  limb  of  a  dead  man.  Every  neck  was  stretched 
from  the  galleries  above,  and  along  the  benches  beneath, 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  mysterious  figure,  which  seemed 
like  an  apparition  from  the  grave  come  to  give  evidence. 
His  face,  too,  was  concealed  by  a  handkerchief ;  and  as 
he  was  placed  in  a  chair  provided  for  the  purpose,  the 
assistants  stood  at  either  side  to  support  his  drooping 
figure. 

"  Let  the  witness  be  sworn,"  said  the  President ;  and, 
with  the  aid  of  an  officer  of  the  court,  a  thin  white  hand 
was  held  up,  on  which  the  flesh  seemed  almost  transparent 
from  emaciation.  A  low,  muttering  sound  followed,  and 
the  President  spoke  again  :  "  Let  the  witness  be  uncovered. 
George  Cadoudal,  advance  !  " 

As  the  hardy  Chouan  stepped  forward  the  handkerchief 
fell  from  the  witness's  face,  while  his  head  slowly  turned 
round  towards  the  prisoner.  A  cry,  like  the  yell  of  a 
wounded  animal,  broke  from  the  stout  Breton,  as  he 
bounded  into  the  air  and  held  up  both  his  arms  to  their 
full  height.  "  Toi,  toil"  screamed  he,  in  accents  that 
seemed  the  very  last  of  a  heart  wrung  to  agony,  while  he 
leaned  forward  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  him,  till  the  very 
orbs  seemed  bursting  from  their  sockets.  "  Oui"  added 
he,  in  a  lower  tone,  but  one  which  was  felt  in  every  corner 
of  that  crowded  assemblage — "  &ui,  c'est  lui."  Then 
clasping  his  trembling  hands  together,  as  his  knees  bent 


862  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

beneath  him,  he  turned  his  eyes  upwards,  and  said,  "  La 
bon  Dieu,  that  make  men's  hearts  and  knows  their 
thoughts,  deals  with  us  as  He  will ;  and  I  must  have 
sinned  sorely  towards  Him  when  such  punishment  as  this 
has  fallen  upon  me.  Oh !  my  brother,  my  child,  my  own 
Bonvet  de  Lozier." 

"  Bouvet  de  Lozier !  "  cried  the  other  prisoners,  with  a 
shout  wild  as  madness  itself,  while  every  man  sprang  for- 
ward to  look  at  him.  But  already  his  head  had  fallen 
back  over  the  chair ;  the  limbs  stretched  out  rigidly,  and 
the  arm  fell  heavily  down.  "  He  is  dying ! "  "  He  is 
dead ! "  were  the  exclamations  of  the  crowd,  and  a 
general  cry  for  a  doctor  was  heard  around.  Several 
physicians  were  soon  at  his  side,  and  by  the  aid  of 
restoratives  he  was  gradually  brought  back  to  animation, 
but  cold  and  speechless  he  lay,  unable  to  understand  any- 
thing, and  was  obliged  to  be  conveyed  back  again  to  his 
bed. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  excitement  of  this  harrow- 
ing scene  was  over;  and  when  order  at  length  was 
restored  in  the  court,  George  Cadoudal  was  seen  seated, 
as  at  tirst,  on  the  bench,  while  around  him  his  faithful 
followers  were  grouped.  Like  children  round  a  beloved 
father,  some  leaned  on  his  neck,  others  clasped  his  knees 
— some  covered  his  hands  with  kisses,  and  called  him  by 
the  most  endearing  names.  But  though  he  moved  his 
head  from  side  to  side,  and  tried  to  smile  upon  them,  a 
cold  vacancy  was  in  his  face ;  his  lips  were  parted,  and 
his  eyes  stared  wildly  before  him  ;  his  very  hair  stood  out 
from  his  forehead,  on  which  the  big  drops  of  sweat  were 
seen. 

"  Father,  dear  father,  it  is  but  one  who  is  false — see, 
look  how  many  of  your  children  are  true  to  you — think 
on  us  who  are  with  you  here,  and  will  go  with  you  to 
death  without  shrinking." 

"  He  is  but  a  child,  too,  father,  and  they  have  stolen 
away  his  reason  from  him,"  said  another. 

"  Yes,  they  have  brought  him  to  this  by  suffering," 
cried  a  third,  as  with  a  clenched  hand  he  menaced  the 
bench  where  sat  the  judges. 

"  Order  in  the  court !  "  cried  the  President ;  but  -the 
command  was  reiterated  again  and  again  before  silence 


THE  "TRIAL."  863 

could  be  obtained ;  and  when  again  I  could  observe  the 
proceedings,  I  saw  the  Procureur- General  addressing  the 
tribunal,  to  demand  a  postponement,  in  consequence  of 
the  illness  of  the  last  witness,  whose  testimony  was  pro- 
nounced all-conclusive. 

A  discussion  took  place  on  the  subject  between  the 
counsel  for  the  prisoners  and  the  prosecution,  and  at 
length  it  was  ruled  that  this  trial  should  not  be  proceeded 
with  till  the  following  morning. 

"  We  are,  however,  prepared  to  go  on  with  the  other 
cases,"  said  the  Procureur,  "  if  the  court  will  permit." 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  President. 

"  In  that  case,"  continued  the  Prccureur,  "  we  shall 
call  on  the  accused  Thomas  Burke,  lieutenant  of  the 
hnitieme.  hussars,  now  present."  For  some  minutes 
nothing  more  could  be  heard,  for  the  crowded  galleries, 
thronged  with  expectant  hundreds,  began  now  to  empty. 
Mine  was  a  name  without  interest  for  any ;  and  the 
thronged  masses  rose  to  depart,  while  their  over-excited 
minds  found  vent  in  words  which  drowned  all  else.  It 
was  in  vain  silence  and  order  were  proclaimed — the  pro- 
ceedings had  lost  all  interest,  and  with  it  all  respect,  and 
for  full  ten  minutes  the  uproar  lasted.  Meanwhile, 
M.  Bail  lot,  taking  his  place  by  my  side  produced  some 
most  voluminous  papers,  in  which  he  soon  became  deeply 
engaged.  I  turned  one  look  throughout  the  now  almost 
deserted  seats,  but  not  one  face  there  was  known  to  me. 
The  few  who  remained  seemed  to  stay  rather  from  indo- 
lence than  any  other  motive,  as  they  lounged  over  the 
vacant  benches,  and  yawned  listlessly ;  and  much  as  I 
dreaded  the  gaze  of  that  appalling  multitude,  I  sickened 
at  the  miserable  isolation  of  my  lot,  and  felt  overwhelmed 
to  think  that  for  me  there  was  not  one  who  should  pity  or 
regret  my  fall.  At  last  order  was  established  in  the 
court,  and  the  Procureur  opened  the  proceeding  by  re- 
citing the  act  of  my  accusation,  in  which  all  the  circum- 
stances already  mentioned  by  my  advocate  were  dwelt 
and  commented  on  with  the  habitual  force  and  exaggera- 
tion of  bar  oratory.  The  address  was  short,  however — 
scarcely  fifteen  minutes  long;  and  by  the  tone  of  the 
speaker,  and  the  manner  of  the  judges,  I  guessed  that  my 
case  excited  little  or  no  interest  to  the  prosecution,  either 


864  TOM    BUKKE    OF    "  OURS." 

from  my  own  humble  and  insignificant  position,  or  the 
certainty  they  felt  of  my  conviction. 

My  advocate  rose  to  demand  a  delay — even  a  short  one, 
pleading  most  energetically  against  the  precipitancy  of  a 
proceeding  in  which  the  indictment  was  but  made  known 
the  day  previous  The  President  interrupted  him  roughly, 
and  with  an  assurance  that  no  circumstance  short  of  the 
necessity  to  produce  some  important  evidence  not  then 
forthcoming,  would  induce  him  to  grant  a  postponement. 

M.  Baillot  replied  at  once,  "  Such,  sir,  is  our  case ;  a 
witness,  whose  evidence  is  of  the  highest  moment,  is  not 
to  be  found ;  a  day  or  two  might  enable  us  to  obtain  his 
testimony  ;  it  is  upon  this  we  ground  our  hope,  our  cer- 
tainty of  an  acquittal.  The  court  will  not,  I  am  certain, 
refuse  its  clemency  in  such  an  emergency  as  this  ?  " 

"  Where  is  this  same  witness  to  be  found  ?  Is  he  in 
Paris  ? — is  he  in  France  ?  " 

"  We  hope  in  Paris,  Monsieur  le  President." 

"  And  his  name  ?  " 

"  The  Abbe  d'Ervan." 

A  strange  murmur  ran  along  the  bench  of  judges  at  the 
words,  and  I  could  see  that  some  of  them  smiled  in  spite  of 
their  efforts  to  seem  grave,  while  the  Procureur- General 
did  not  scruple  to  laugh  outright. 

"  I  believe,  sir,"  said  he,  addressing  the  President,  "  that 
I  can  accommodate  my  learned  brother  with  this  so-much- 
desired  testimony  perhaps  more  speedily — I  will  not  say 
than  he  wishes — but  than  he  expects." 

"  How  is  this  ?"  said  my  advocate,  in  a  whisper  to  me ; 
"they  have  this  abbe  then — has  he  turned  against  his 
party  ?  " 

"I  know  nothing  of  him,"  said  I,  recklessly;  "false- 
hood and  treachery  seem  so  rife  here,  that  it  can  well  be  as 
you  say." 

"  The  Abbe  d'Ervan,"  cried  a  loud  voice,  and  with  the 
words  the  well-known  figure  moved  rapidly  from  the 
crowd  and  mounted  the  steps  of  the  platform. 

"  You  are  lost,"  said  Baillot,  in  a  low,  solemn  voice.  "  It 
is  Mehe'e  de  la  Touche  himself  !  " 

Had  the  words  of  my  sentence  rung  in  my  ears  I  had 
not  felt  them  more ;  that  name,  by  some  secret  spell,  had 
such  terror  in  it. 


THE  "TRIAL."  865 

"  You  know  the  prisoner  before  yon,  sir  ?  "  said  the 
President,  turning  towards  the  abbe. 

Before  he  could  reply,  my  advocate  broke  in, — 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,  but  previous  to  the  examination  of  this 
respectable  witness,  I  would  ask  under  what  name  he  is 
to  figure  in  this  process  ?  Is  he  here  the  Abbe  d'Ervan, 
the  agreeable  and  gifted  frequenter  of  the  Faubourg  St. 
Germain  ? — is  he  the  Chevalier  Maupret,  the  companion 
and  associate  of  the  house  of  Bourbon  P — or  is  he  the  no 
less  celebrated  and  esteemed  citizen  Mehee  de  la  Touche, 
whose  active  exertions  have  been  of  such  value  in  these 
eventful  times,  that  we  should  think  no  recompense  suf- 
ficient for  them,  had  he  not  been  paid  by  both  parties  ? 
Yes,  sir,"  continued  he,  in  an  altered  tone,  "  I  repeat  it, 
we  are  prepared  to  show  that  this  man  is  unworthy  of  all 
credit  ;  that  he  whose  testimony  the  court  now  calls  is  a 
hired  spy  and  bribed  calumniator — the  instigator  to  the 
treason  he  prosecutes — the  designer  of  the  schemes  for 
which  other  men's  blood  has  paid  the  penalty.  Is  this 
abbe  without  and  gendarme  within  to  be  at  large  in  the 
world,  ensnaring  the  unsuspecting  youth  of  France  by 
subtle  and  insidious  doctrines  disguised  under  the  sem- 
blance of  after-dinner  gaiety  ?  Are  we  to  feel  that  on 
such  evidence  as  this,  the  fame,  the  honour,  the  life  of 
every  man  is  to  rest  ?  He  who  earns  his  livelihood  by 
treason,  and  whose  wealth  is  gathered  in  the  bloody  saw- 
dust beneath  the  guillotine !  " 

"  We  shall  not  hear  these  observations  longer,"  said  the 
President,  with  an  accent  of  severity.  "  You  may  com- 
ment on  the  evidence  of  the  witness  hereafter,  and,  if  you 
are  able  to  do  so,  disprove  it.  His  character  is  under  the 
protection  of  the  court." 

"No,  sir,"  said  the  advocate,  with  energy,  "no  court, 
however  high — no  tribunal,  beneath  that  of  Heaven  itself, 
whose  decrees  we  dare  not  question — can  throw  a  shield 
ovei  a  man  like  this.  There  are  crimes  which  stain  the 
nntion  they  occur  in — which,  happening  in  our  age,  make 
men  sorry  for  their  generation,  and  wish  they  had  lived 
in  other  times." 

"  Once  more,  sir,  I  command  you  to  desist,"  inter- 
rupted the  President. 

"  If  I  dare  to  dictate  to  the  honourable  court,"  said  the 


866  TOM   BUBKB   OP    "  OURS." 

so-called  abbe",  in  an  accent  of  the  most  honeyed  sweet- 
ness, and  with  a  smile  of  the  most  winning  expression, 
"  I  would,  ask  permission  for  the  learned  gentleman  to  pro- 
ceed. These  well-arranged  paragraphs,  this  indignation 
got  by  heart,  must  have  vent,  since  they're  paid  for  ;  and 
it  would  save  the  tribunal  the  time  which  must  be  con- 
sumed in  listening  to  them  hereafter." 

'*  If,"  said  the  advocate,  "  the  coolness  and  indifference 
to  blood  which  the  headsman  exhibits,  be  a  proof  of  guilt 
in  the  victim  before  him,  I  conld  congratulate  the  pro- 
secution on  their  witness.  But,"  cried  he,  in  an  accent 
of  wild  excitement,  "  great  Heavens!  are  we  again  fallen 
on  such  times  as  to  need  atrocity  like  this  ?  Is  the  ter- 
rible ordeal  of  blood  through  which  we  have  passed  to 
be  renewed  once  more  ?  Is  the  accusation  to  be  hoarded, 
the  calumnious  evidence  secreted,  the  charge  held  back, 
till  the  scaffold  is  ready — and  then  the  indictment,  the 
slander,  the  sentence,  and  the  death  to  follow  on  one  an- 
other like  the  flash  and  the  thunder  ?  Is  the  very  imputa- 
tion of  'having  heard  from  a  Bourbon  to  bear  its  prestige 
of  sudden  death  ?  " 

'*  Silence,  sir,"  cried  the  President,  to  whom  the  allu- 
sion to  the  Duo  d'Enghien  was  peculiarly  offensive,  and 
who  saw  in  the  looks  of  the  spectators  with  what  force 
it  told.  "  You  know  the  prisoner  ?  "  said  he,  turning 
towards  D'Ervan. 

"  I  have  that  honour,  sir,"  said  he,  with  a  bland  smile. 

"  State  to  the  court  the  place  and  the  occasion  of  your 
first  meeting  him." 

"  If  I  remember  correctly,  it  was  in  the  Palais  Royal, 
at  Beauvilliers's.  There  was  a  meeting  of  some  of  the 
Chouan  party  arranged  for  that  evening,  but  from  some 
accident  only  three  or  four  were  present.  The  sous-lieu- 
tenant, hi-wever,  was  one." 

"  Repeat,  as  far  as  your  memory  serves  you,  the  conduct 
and  conversation  of  the  prisoner  during  the  evening  in 
question." 

In  reply,  the  abbe  recapitulated  every  minute  particular 
of  the  supper  ;  scarcely  an  observation  the  most  trivial  he 
did  not  recall  and  apply,  by  some  infernal  ingenuity,  to  the 
scheme  of  the  conspiracy.  Although  never,  even  in  the 
slightest  instance,  falsifying  any  speech,  he  tortured  the 


THE    "  TRIAL."  867 

few  words  I  did  say  into  such  a  semblance  of  criminality, 
that  I  started,  as  I  heard  the  interpretation  which  now 
appeared  so  naturally  to  attach  to  them. 

During  all  this  time  my  advocate  never  interrupted 
him  once,  but  occupied  himself  in  writing  as  rapidly  as 
he  could  follow  the  evidence. 

The  chance  expression  which  concluded  the  evening,  the 
hope  of  meeting  soon,  was  artfully  construed  into  an  ar- 
ranged and  recognized  agreement  that  I  had  accepted 
companionship  amongst  them,  and  formally  joined  their 
ranks.  From  this  he  passed  on  to  the  second  charge,  re- 
specting the  conversation  I  had  overheard  at  the  Tuileries, 
and  which  I  so  unhappily  repeated  to  Beauvais.  This  the 
abbe  dwelt  upon  with  great  minuteness,  as  evidencing  my 
being  an  accomplice,  showing  how  I  had  exhibited  great 
zeal  in  the  new  cause  I  had  embarked  in,  and  affecting  to 
mark  how  very  highly  the  service  was  rated  by  those  in 
whose  power  lay  the  rewards  of  such  an  achievement. 

Then  followed  the  account  of  my  appointment  at 
Versailles,  in  which  I  heard,  with  a  sinking  heart,,  how 
thoroughly  even  there  the  toils  were  spread  around  me. 
It  appeared  that  the  reason  of  the  neglect  I  then  experienced 
was  an  order  from  the  minister  that  I  should  not  be  noticed 
in  any  way  ;  that  the  object  of  my  being  placed  there  was 
to  test  my  fidelity,  which  already  was  suspected ;  that  it 
was  supposed  such  neglect  might  naturally  have  the  effect 
of  throwing  me  more  willingly  into  the  views  of  the  con- 
spirators, and,  as  I  was  watched  in  every  minute  particular, 
of  establishing  my  own  guilt  and  leading  to  the  detection 
of  others.  Then  came  a  narrative  of  his  visits  to  my 
quarters,  in  which  the  omission  of  all  mention  of  his  name 
in  my  report  was  clearly  shown  as  an  evidence  of  my 
conscious  culpability  ;  and,  to  my  horror  and  confusion,  a 
new  witness  was  produced,  the  sentinel,  Pierre  Dulong, 
who  mounted  guard  at  the  gate  of  the  chateau  on  the 
morning  when  I  passed  the  abbe  through  the  park. 

With  an  accuracy  beyond  my  belief  he  repeated  all  our 
conversations,  making  the  dubious  hints  and  dark  sugges- 
tions which  he  himself  threw  out  as  much  mine  as  his 
own  ;  and  having  at  length  given  a  full  picture  of  my 
treacherous  conduct,  he  introduced  my  intimacy  with 
Beauvais  as  the  crowning  circumstance  of  my  guilt.  "  I 


868  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OUBS.** 

shall  pause  hero,"  said  he,  with  a  cool  malignity,  but  ill 
concealed  beneath  a  look  of  affected  sorrow — "  I  shall  pause 
here,  and,  with  the  permission  of  the  court,  allow  the 
accused  to  make,  if  he  will,  a  full  confession  of  his  crimin- 
ality ;  or,  if  he  refuse  this,  I  shall  proceed  to  the  disclosure 
of  other  circumstances,  by  which  it  will  be  seen  that  these 
dark  designs  met  favour  and  countenance  in  higher 
quarters,  and  among  those,  too,  whose  sex,  if  nothing  else, 
should  have  removed  them  beyond  the  contamination  of 
confederacy  with  assassination." 

"  The  court,"  said  the  President,  sternly,  "  will  enter 
into  no  compromise  of  this  kind.  You  are  here  to  give 
such  evidence  as  you  possess — fully,  frankly,  and  without 
reserve  ;  nor  can  we  permit  you  to  hold  out  any  promises 
to  the  prisoner  that  his  confession  of  guilt  can  afford  a 
screen  to  the  culpability  of  others." 

"  I  demand,"  cried  the  Procureur-General,  "  a  full  dis- 
closure from  the  witness  of  everything  he  knows  concerning 
this  conspiracy." 

"  In  that  case  I  shall  speak,"  said  the  abbe. 

At  this  instant  a  noise  was  heard  in  the  hall  without ;  a 
half  murmur  ran  through  the  court ;  and  suddenly  the 
heavy  curtain  was  drawn  aside,  and  a  loud  voice  called 
out, — 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Republic — one  and  indivisible — an 
order  of  council." 

The  messenger,  splashed  and  covered  with  mud,  advanced 
through  the  court,  and  delivered  a  packet  into  the  hands 
of  the  President,  who,  having  broken  the  large  seals,  pro- 
ceeded leisurely  to  read  it  over.  At  the  same  moment 
I  felt  my  arm  gently  touched,  and  a  small  pencil  note  was 
slipped  into  my  hand.  It  ran  thus  : — 

"DEAR  SIR, — Burke  is  safe.  An  order  for  his  trans- 
mission before  a  military  tribunal  has  just  been  signed  by 
the  First  Consul.  Stop  all  the  evidence  at  once,  as  he  is 
no  longer  before  the  court.  The  court-martial  will  be  but 
a  formality,  and  in  a  few  days  he  will  be  at  liberty. — YOUJS, 

"  D'AuvERGNE,  Lieu  tenant- General." 

Before  I  oould  recover  from  the  shock  of  such  glad 
tidings  the  President  rose,  and  said, — 


THE  "TRIAL.**  869 

"  In  the  matter  of  the  accused  Burke  this  court  has  no 
longer  cognizance,  as  he  is  summoned  before  the  tribunal 
of  the  army.  Let  him  withdraw,  and  call  on  the  next 
case,  Auguste  Leconisset." 

D'Ervan  stooped  down  and  whispered  a  few  words  to 
the  Procureur- General,  who  immediately  demanded  to 
peruse  the  order  of  council.  To  this  my  advocate  at  once 
objected,  and  a  short  and  animated  discussion  on  the  legal 
question  followed.  The  President,  however,  ruled  in  favour 
of  my  defender ;  and  at  the  same  instant  a  corporal's  guard 
appeared,  into  whose  charge  I  was  formally  handed  over, 
and  marched  from  the  court. 

Such  was  the  excited  state  of  my  mind — in  such  a  con- 
fused whirl  were  all  my  faculties,  that  I  knew  nothing  of 
what  was  passing  around  me ;  and  save  that  I  was  ordered 
to  mount  into  a  carriage,  and  driven  along  at  a  rapid  pace, 
I  remembered  no  more.  At  length  we  reached  the  quay 
Voltaire,  and  entered  the  large  square  of  the  barrack.  The 
tears  burst  out  and  ran  down  my  cheeks,  as  I  looked  once 
more  on  the  emblems  of  the  career  I  loved.  We  stopped 
at  the  door  of  a  large  stone  building,  where  two  sentries 
were  posted  ;  and  the  moment  after  I  found  myself  the 
occupant  of  a  small  barrack-room,  in  which,  though  under 
arrest,  no  feature  of  harsh  confinement  appeared,  and  from 
whose  windows  I  could  survey  the  movement  of  the  troops 
in  the  court,  and  hear  the  sounds  which  for  so  many  a  day 
had  been  the  most  welcome  to  my  existence. 


870  TOM  BURKE   OF    "  OUii8/ 


CHAPTER     XXXVIIL 

"THE  OUIRASSIEK." 

ALTHOUGH  my  arrest  was  continued  with  all  its  strictness, 
I  never  heard  one  word  of  my  transmission  before  the 
military  tribunal ;  and  a  fortnight  elapsed,  during  which  I 
passed  through  every  stage  of  expectancy,  doubt,  and  at 
last  indifference ;  no  tidings  having  ever  reached  me  as  to 
what  fortune  lay  in  store  for  me. 

The  gruff  old  invalid  that  carried  my  daily  rations 
seemed  but  ill-disposed  to  afford  me  any  information,  even 
as  to  the  common  events  without,  and  seldom  made  any 
other  reply  to  my  questioning  than  an  erect  position  as 
If  on  parade,  a  military  salute,  and  "  Connais  pas,  mon  lieu- 
tenant " — a  phrase  which  I  actually  began  to  abhor  from 
its  repetition,  Still  his  daily  visits  showed  I  was  not 
utterly  forgotten  ;  while  from  my  window  I  had  a  view  of 
all  that  went  on  in  the  barrack-yard.  There — for  1  had 
neither  books  nor  newspapers — I  spent  my  day  watching 
the  evolutions  of  the  soldiers :  the  parade  at  daybreak,  the 
relieving  guards,  the  drill,  the  exercise,  the  very  labours 
of  the  barrack- square — all  had  their  interest  for  me,  and  at 
length  I  began  to  know  the  very  faces  of  the  soldiers,  and 
could  recognize  the  bronzed  and  weather-beaten  features 
of  the  veterans  of  the  republican  armies. 

It  was  a  cuirassier  regiment,  and  one  that  had  seen 
much  service :  most  of  the  sous-orders  and  many  of  the 
men  were  decorated ;  and  their  helmets  bore  the  haughty 
device  of  "  Dix  contre  wn/"  in  memory  of  some  battle 
against  the  Austrians,  where  they  repulsed  and  overthrew 
a  force  of  ten  times  their  own  number. 

At  first  their  heavy  equipments  and  huge  unwieldy 
horses  seemed  strange  and  uncouth  to  my  eyes,  accus- 
tomed to  the  more  elegant  and  trim  style  of  a  hussar 
corps,  but  gradually  I  fancied  there  was  something  almost 
more  soldierlike  about  them;  their  dark  faces  harmonized 
too  with  the  great  black  cuirass ;  and  the  large  massive 


,  "  THE    CUIRASSIER."  .          871 

boot  mounting  to  the  middle  of  the  thigh,  the  long  horse- 
haired  helmet,  the  straight  sword,  and  peculiar,  heavy, 
plodding  step,  reminded  me  of  what  I  used  to  read  of  the 
Roman  centurion;  while  the  horses,  covered  with  weighty 
and  massive  trappings,  moved  with  a  warlike  bearing,  and 
a  tramp  as  stately  as  their  riders. 

When  evening  came,  and  set  the  soldiers  free  from 
duty,  I  used  to  watch  them  for  hours  long,  as  they  sat  in 
little  groups  and  knots  about  the  barrack-yard,  smoking 
and  chatting — occasionally  singing  too.  Even  then,  how- 
ever, their  distinctive  character  was  preserved :  unlike 
the  noisy,  boisterous  merriment  of  the  hussar,  the  staid 
cuirassier  deemed  such  levity  unbecoming  the  dignity  of 
his  arm  of  the  service,  and  there  reigned  a  half-solemn 
feature  over  all  their  intercourse,  which  struck  me  forcibly. 
1  knew  not  then — as  I  have  learned  full  well  since — how 
every  department  of  the  French  army  had  its  distinctive 
characteristic,  and  that  Napoleon  studied  and  even  en- 
couraged the  growth  of  these  singular  manners  to  a  great 
extent ;  doubtless,  too,  feeling  a  pride  in  his  own  thorough 
intimacy  with  their  most  minute  traits,  and  that  facility 
with  which,  by  a  single  word,  he  could  address  himself  to 
the  cherished  feeling  of  a  particular  corps.  And  the  tact 
by  which  the  monarch  wins  over  and  fascinates  the  nobles 
of  his  court,  was  here  exercised  in  the  great  world  of  a 
camp,  and  with  far  more  success  too :  a  |  lirase,  a  name, 
some  well-known  battle,  the  date  of  a  victory,  would  fall 
from  his  lips  as  he  rode  along  the  line,  and  be  caught  up 
with  enthusiasm  by  thousands,  who  felt  in  the  one  word 
a  recognition  of  past  services.  "  Thou  " — he  always  ad- 
dressed the  soldiers  in  the  second  person — "  thou  wert 
with  me  at  Cairo ;"  "  I  remember  thee  at  Arcole,"  were 
enough  to  reward  wounds,  suffering,  mutilation  itself;  and 
he  to  whom  such  was  addressed  became  an  object  of 
veneration  among  his  fellows. 

Certain  corps  preserved  more  studiously  than  others  the 
memories  of  past  achievements — the  heirlooms  of  their 
glory ;  and  to  these  Bonaparte  always  spoke  with  a  feeling 
of  friendship  most  captivating  to  the  soldier's  heart,  and 
from  them  he  selected  the  various  regiments  that  com- 
posed his  "  Guard."  The  cuirassiers  belonged  to  thia 
proud  force;  and  even  an  unmilitarv  eye  could  mark,  in 


372  TOM    BUEKE    OF    "  OURS. 

their  haughty  bearing  and  assured  look,  that  they  were 
a  favoured  corps. 

Among  those  with  whose  faces  I  had  now  grown  fami- 
liar there  was  one  whom  I  regarded  with  unusual  interest: 
he  seemed  to  me  the  very  type  of  his  class.  He  was  a 
man  of  gigantic  size,  towering  by  half  a  head  above  the 
very  tallest  of  his  fellows,  while  his  enormous  breadth  of 
chest  and  shoulder  actually  seemed  to  detract  from  his 
great  height.  The  lower  part  of  his  face  was  entirely 
concealed  by  a  beard  of  bright  red  hair  that  fell  in  a  huge 
jiass  over  the  breast  of  his  cuirass,  and  seemed  by  its  trim 
and  fashion  to  be  an  object  of  no  common  pride  to  the 
wearer ;  his  nose  was  marked  by  a  sabre-cut  that  extended 
across  one  entire  cheek,  leaving  a  deep  blue  welt  in  its 
track ;  but  saving  these  traits — wild  and  savage  enough — 
the  countenance  was  singularly  mild  and  pleasing ;  he  had 
large  and  liquid  blue  eyes,  soft  and  lustrous  as  any  girl's; 
the  lashes,  too,  were  long  and  falling ;  and  his  forehead, 
which  was  high  and  open,  was  white  as  snow.  I  was  not 
long  in  remarking  the  strange  influence  this  man  seemed 
to  possess  over  the  rest — an  ascendency  not  in  any  way 
attributable  to  the  mark  on  his  sleeve,  which  proclaimed 
him  a  corporal.  It  seemed  as  though  his  slightest  word, 
his  least  gesture,  was  attended  to ;  and  though  evidently 
taciturn  and  quiet,  when  he  spoke  I  could  detect  in  his 
manner  an  air  of  promptitude  and  command  that  marked 
him  as  one  born  to  be  above  his  fellows.  If  he  seemed 
such  in  the  idle  hours,  on  parade  he  was  the  beau  ideal  of 
a  cuirassier.  His  great  war-horse,  seemingly  small  for 
the  immense  proportions  of  the  heavy  rider,  bounded  with 
each  movement  of  his  wrist,  as  if  instinct  with  the  horse- 
man's wishes. 

I  waited  with  some  impatience  for  the  invalid's  arrival* 
to  ask  who  this  remarkable  soldier  was,  certain  that  I 
should  hear  of  no  common  man.  He  came  soon  after ; 
and  as  I  pointed  out  the  object  of  my  curiosity,  the  old 
fellow  drew  himself  up  with  pride,  and,  while  a  grim  effort 
at  a  smile  crossed  his  features,  replied, — 

"  That's  Pioche— le  gros  Pioche  I  " 

"  Pioche  1"  said  I,  repealing  the  name  aloud,  and  en- 
deavouring to  remember  why  it  seemed  well  known  to  me. 

"  Yes,  Pioche,"  rejoined  he,  gruffly.     "  If  Monsieur  had 


"THE  CUIRASSIEB."  873 

ever  been  in  Egypt,  the  name  would  scarcely  sound  so 
strange  in  his  ears."  And  with  this  sarcasm  he  hobbled 
from  the  room  and  closed  the  door,  while  I  could  hear  him 
grumbling  along  the  entire  corridor,  in  evident  anger  at 
the  ignorance  that  did  not  know  "  Pioche." 

Twenty  times  did  I  repeat  the  name  aloud,  before  it 
flashed  across  me  as  the  same  Madame  Lefebvre  mentioned 
at  the  soiree  in  the  palace.  It  was  Pioche  who  shouldered 
the  brass  field-piece,  and  passed  before  the  general  on 
parade.  The  gigantic  size,  the  powerful  strength,  the 
strange  name — all  could  belong  to  no  other;  and  I  felt  as 
though  at  once  I  had  found  an  old  acquaintance  in  the 
great  cuirassier  of  the  Guard. 

If  the  prisoner  in  his  lonely  cell  has  few  incidents  to 
charm  his  solitary  hours,  in  return  he  is  enabled  by  some 
happy  gift  to  make  these  the  sources  of  many  thoughts. 
The  gleam  of  light  that  falls  upon  the  floor,  broken  by  the 
iron  gratings  of  his  window,  comes  laden  with  storied 
fancies  of  other  lands — of  far-distant  countries  where  men 
are  dwelling  in  their  native  mountains  free  and  happy ; 
forgetful  of  his  prison,  the  captive  wanders  in  his  fancy 
through  valleys  he  has  seen  in  boyhood,  and  with  friends 
to  be  met  no  more.  He  turns  gladly  to  the  past,  of  whose 
pleasures  no  adverse  fortune  can  deprive  him,  and  lives 
over  again  the  happy  hours  of  his  youth  ;  and  thinks,  with 
a  melancholy  not  devoid  of  its  own  pleasure,  of  what  they 
would  feel  who  loved  him,  could  they  but  see  him  now. 
He  pictures  their  sympathy  and  their  sorrow,  and  his  heart 
feels  lighter,  though  his  eyes  drop  tears. 

In  this  way  the  great  cuirassier  became  an  object  for  my 
thoughts  by  day  and  my  dreams  by  night.  I  fancied  a 
hundred  stories  of  which  he  was  the  hero;  and  these 
imaginings  served  to  while  away  many  a  tedious  hour, 
und  gave  me  an  interest  in  watching  the  little  spot  of 
earth  that  was  visible  from  my  barred  window.  It  was 
in  one  of  these  reveries  I  sat  one  evening,  when  I  heard 
the  sounds  of  feet  approaching  along  the  corridor  that  led 
to  my  room  ;  the  clank  of  a  sabre  and  the  jingle  of  spurs 
Bounded  not  like  my  grufif  visitor.  My  door  was  opened 
before  I  had  time  for  much  conjecture,  and  General 
D'Auvergne  stood  before  me. 

"  Ah/  mon  lieutenant"  cried  he,  gaily,  "you  have  been 

Vol.  28— (13) 


874  TOM   BURKE   OP   "  OURS." 

thinking  very  hardly  of  me  since  we  met  last,  I'm  sure  ; 
charging  me  with  forgetfulness,  and  accusing  me  of  great 
neglect." 

"  Pardon  me,  general,"  said  I,  hurriedly  ;  "  your  former 
kindness,  for  which  I  never  can  be  grateful  enough,  has 
been  always  before  my  mind.  I  have  not  jet  forgotten 
that  you  saved  my  life  ;  more  still — you  rescued  my  name 
from  dishonour." 

"  Well,  well ;  that's  all  past  and  gone  now.  Your  repu- 
tation stands  clear  at  last.  De  Beauvais  has  surrendered 
himself  to  the  authorities  at  Rouen,  and  made  a  full  con- 
fession of  everything,  exculpating  you  completely  in  every 
particular,  save  the  indiscretion  of  your  intercourse  with 
Mehee  de  la  Touche — or,  as  you  know  him  better,  the  Abbe 
d'Ervan." 

"  And  poor  De  Beauvais,  what  is  to  become  of  him  ?" 
said  I,  eagerly. 

"  Have  no  fears  on  his  account,"  said  he,  with  some- 
thing like  confusion  in  his  manner ;  "  she — that  is, 
Madame  Bonaparte — has  kindly  interested  herself  in  his 
behalf,  and  he  is  to  sail  for  Guadaloupein  a  few  days — his 
own  proposition  and  wish." 

"  And  does  General  Bonaparte  know  now  that  I  was 
guiltless  ?"  cried  I,  with  enthusiasm. 

"  My  dear  young  man,"  said  he,  with  a  bland  smile,  "  I 
very  much  fear  that  the  general  has  little  time  at  this 
moment  to  give  the  matter  much  of  his  attention.  Great 
events  have  happened — are  happening  while  we  speak. 
War  is  threatening  on  the  side  of  Austria.  Yes,  it  is 
true  ;  the  camp  of  Boulogne  have  received  orders  to  break 
up  ;  troops  are  once  more  on  their  march  to  the  Rhine  ;  all 
France  is  arming." 

"  Oh,  when  I  shall  be  free  ?" 

"  You  are  free ! "  cried  he,  clapping  me  gaily  on  the 
shoulder.  "  An  amnesty  against  all  untried  prisoners  for 
state  offences  has  been  proclaimed.  At  such  a  moment  of 
national  joy " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  What !  and  have  I  not  told  you  my  great  news  ?  The 
senate  have  presented  to  Bonaparte  an  address,  praying 
his  acceptance  of  the  throne  of  France — or,  in  their  very 
words,  to  make  his  authority  eternal." 


"THE  CUIRASSIER."  875 

"  And  he  ?"  said  I,  breathless  with  impatience  to  know 
the  result. 

"He,"  continued  the  general,  "has  replied  as  became  him, 
desiring  them  to  state  clearly  their  views — by  what  steps 
they  propose  to  consolidate  the  acquired  liberties  of  the 
nation  ;  and  while  avowing  that  no  higher  honour  or  dig- 
nity can  await  him  than  such  as  he  has  already  received  at 
the  hands  of  the  people — '  Yet,'  added  he,  '  when  the  hour 
arrives  that  I  can  see  such  to  be  the  will  of  France,  when 
one  voice  proclaims  it  from  Alsace  to  the  Ocean — from 
Lisle  to  the  Pyrenees,  then  shall  I  be  ready  to  accept  the 
throne  of  France.' " 

The  general  entered  minutely  into  all  the  circumstances 
of  the  great  political  change,  and  detailed  the  effect  which 
the  late  conspiracy  had  had  on  the  minds  of  the  people, 
and  with  what  terror  they  contemplated  the  social  disor- 
ders that  must  accrue  from  the  death  of  their  great  ruler ; 
how  nothing  short  of  a  government  based  on  a  monarchy, 
with  the  right  of  succession  established,  could  withstand 
such  a  terrific  crisis.  As  he  spoke,  the  words  I  had  heard 
in  the  Temple  crossed  my  mind,  and  I  remembered  that 
such  was  the  anticipation  of  the  prisoners,  as  they  said 
among  themselves,  "  When  the  guillotine  has  done  its 
work,  they'll  patch  up  the  timbers  into  a  throne." 

"And  George  Cadoudal  and  the  others  ?"  said  I. 

"  They  are  no  more.  Betrayed  by  their  own  party,  they 
met  death  like  brave  men,  and  as  worthy  of  a  better  cause. 
But  let  us  not  turn  to  so  sad  a  theme.  The  order  for  your 
liberation  will  be  here  to-morrow  ;  and  as  I  am  appointed 
to  a  brigade  on  active  service.  I  have  come  to  offer  you 
the  post  of  aide-de-camp.' ' 

I  could  not  speak ;  my  heart  was  too  full  for  words.  I 
knew  how  great  the  risk  of  showing  any  favour  to  one 
who  stood  in  such  a  position  as  I  did,  and  I  could  but  look 
my  gratitude,  while  the  tears  ran  down  my  cheeks. 

'*  Well,"  cried  he,  as  he  took  my  hand  in  his,  "  so  much 
is  settled.  Now  to  another  point,  and  one  in  which  my 
frankness  must  cause  you  no  offence.  You  are  not  rich — 
neither  am  I ;  but  Bonaparte  always  gives  us  opportunities 
to  gather  our  epaulettes — ay,  and  find  the  bullion  to  make 
them,  too.  Meanwhile,  you  may  want  money— 

"  No,  general,"  cried  I,  eagerly ;  "  here  are  three  thou* 


876  TOM  BURKE  OF    "  OURS.'* 

sand  francs  some  kind  friend  sent  me.  I  know  not  whence 
they  came  ;  and  even  if  I  wanted,  did  not  dare  to  spend 
them ;  but  now " 

The  old  man  paused,  and  appeared  confused,  while  he 
leaned  his  finger  on  his  forehead,  and  seemed  endeavour- 
ing to  recall  some  passing  thought. 

"Did  they  come  from  you,  sir?"  said  I,  timidly. 

"  No,  not  from  me,"  repeated  he,  slowly.  "  You  8ay 
you  never  found  out  the  donor  ?  " 

"  Never,"  said  I,  while  a  sense  of  shame  prevented  my 
adding  what  rose  to  my  mind — Could  they  not  be  from 
Mademoiselle  de  Meudon  ? 

"  Well,  well,"  said  he,  at  length,  "be  it  so.  And  now 
till  to-morrow:  I  shall  be  here  at  noon,  and  bring  the 
minister's  order  with  me.  And  so,  good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,"  said  I,  as  I  stood  overcome  with  happiness. 
"  Let  what  will  come  of  it,  this  is  a  moment  worth  living 
for." 


877 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

A  MORNING  AT    "THE  TUItEEIES." 

TRUE  to  his  appointment,  the  general  appeared  the  follow- 
ing day  as  the  hour  of  noon  was  striking.  He  brought 
the  official  papers  from  the  minister  of  war,  as  well  as  the 
formal  letter  naming  me  his  aide-de-camp.  The  docu- 
ments were  all  perfectly  regular,  and  being  read  over  by 
the  military  commission,  I  was  sent  for,  when  my  sword 
was  restored  to  me  by  the  colonel  of  the  regiment  in  garri- 
son, and  I  was  free  once  more. 

"  You  have  received  a  severe  lesson,  Burke,"  said  the 
general,  as  he  took  my  arm  to  lead  me  towards  his  car- 
riage, "  and  all  owing  to  the  rashness  with  which,  in  times 
of  difficulty  and  danger,  you  permitted  yourself  to  form 
intimacies  with  men  utterly  unknown  to  you.  There  are 
epochs  when  weakness  is  the  worst  of  evils.  You  are 
very  young,  to  be  sure,  and  I  trust  the  experience  you 
have  acquired  here  will  serve  for  a  lifetime." 

"  Still,  sir,  in  all  this  sad  business,  my  faith  never 
wavered  ;  my  attachment  to  the  Consul  was  unshaken." 

"  Had  it  been  otherwise,  do  you  think  you  had  been 
here  now  ?  "  said  he,  dryly.  "  Were  not  the  evidences  of 
your  fidelity  set  off  against  your  folly,  what  chance  of 
escape  remained  for  you  ?  No,  no  ;  she  who  befriended 
you  so  steadily  throughout  this  tangled  scheme  for  your 
ruin,  had  never  advocated  your  cause  were  there  reason  to 
suppose  you  were  involved  in  the  conspiracy  against  her 
husband's  life." 

"Who  do  you  mean?"  said  I.  "I  scarcely  under- 
stand." 

"  The  Consulesse,  of  course.  But  for  Madame  Bona- 
parte you  were  lost ;  even  since  I  saw  you  last,  I  have 
learned  how  deeply  interested  she  became  in  your  fortunes. 
The  letter  you  received  in  the  Temple  came  from  her,  and 


878  TOM  BURKE  OF  "OURS.** 

the  enclosure  also.  And  now,  with  your  leave,  we  can  do 
nothing  better  than  pay  our  respects  to  her,  and  make  our 
acknowledgments  for  such  kindness.  She  receives  at  this 
hour,  and  will,  I  know,  take  your  visit  in  good  part." 

While  I  professed  my  readiness  to  comply  with  the 
suggestion,  we  drove  into  the  court  of  the  Tuileries.  It 
was  so  early  that,  except  the  officers  of  the  Consul's  staff, 
and  some  of  those  on  guard,  we  were  the  only  persons 
visible. 

"  We  are  the  first  arrivals,"  said  the  general,  as  we 
drew  up  at  the  door  of  the  pavilion.  "  I  am  not  sorry  for 
it ;  we  shall  have  our  audience  over  before  the  crowd 
assembles." 

Giving  our  names  to  the  usher,  we  mounted  the  stairs, 
and  passed  on  from  room  to  room  until  we  came  to  a  large 
salon,  in  which  seats  were  formally  arranged  in  a  semi- 
circle, an  arm-chair  somewhat  higher  than  the  rest  occu- 
pying the  centre.  Several  full-length  portraits  of  the 
generals  of  the  revolutionary  armies  adorned  the  walls, 
and  a  striking  likeness  of  the  Consul  himself,  on  horse- 
back, held  the  principal  place.  I  had  but  time  to  see  thus 
much,  when  the  two  sides  of  the  folding-doors  were  flung 
open,  and  Madame  Bonaparte,  followed  by  Mademoiselle 
de  Meudon,  entered.  Scarcely  were  the  doors  closed, 
when  she  said,  smiling, — 

"  I  heard  of  your  arrival,  general,  and  guessed  its  pur- 
port, so  came  at  once.  Monsieur  Burke,  I  am  happy  to 
see  you  at  liberty  once  more." 

"  That  I  owe  it  to  you,  madame,  makes  it  doubly  dear 
to  me,"  said  ],  faltering. 

"  You  must  not  overrate  my  exertions  on  your  behalf," 
replied  the  Consulesse,  in  a  hurried  voice.  "  There  was 
an  amende  due  to  you  for  the  treatment  you  met  with  at 
Versailles — all  Savary's  fault ;  and  now  I  am  sincerely 
sorry  I  ever  suffered  myself  to  become  a  party  to  his 
schemes.  Indeed,  I  never  guessed  them,  or  I  should  not. 
General  d'Auvergne  has  made  you  his  aide-de-camp,  he 
tells  me." 

"  Yes,  madame  ;  my  good  fortune  has  showered  favours 
on  me  most  suddenly.  Your  kindness  has  been  an  augury 
of  success  in  everything." 

She  smiled,  as  if  pleased,  and  then  said,  "  I  have  a  piece 


A   MORNING   AT    "  THE    TUILERIES."  379 

of  advice  to  give  you,  and  hope  you'll  profit  by  it."  Then, 
turning  towards  the  general,  who  all  this  time  was  dec-ply 
engaged  in  talking  to  Mademoiselle  de  Meudon,  she  added, 
"  Don't  you  think,  general,  that  it  were  as  well  Monsieur 
Burke  should  not  be  in  the  way  of  meeting  the  Consul  tor 
some  short  time  to  come.  Is  there  any  garrison  duty,  or 
any  service  away  from  Paris,  where,  for  a  week  or  so,  he 
could  remain  ?  " 

"  I  have  thought  of  that,  madame,"  said  the  general. 
"Two  of  the  regiments  in  my  brigade  are  to  march  to- 
morrow for  the  east  of  France,  and  I  intend  my  young 
friend  to  proceed  to  Strasbourg  at  once." 

"  This  is  not  meant  for  banishment,"  said  she  to  me, 
with  a  look  of  much  sweetness  ;  "  but  Bonaparte  will  now 
and  then  say  a  severe  thing,  likely  to  dwell  in  the  mind  of 
him  to  whom  it  was  addressed  long  after  the  sentiment 
which  dictated  it  has  departed.  A  little  time  will  efface 
all  memory  of  this  sad  affair,  and  then  we  shall  be  happy 
to  see  you  here  again." 

"  Or  events  may  happen  soon,  madame,  by  which  he 
may  make  his  own  peace  with  General  Bonaparte." 

"  True,  very  true,"  said  she,  gravely.  "  And  as  to  that, 
general,  what  advices  are  there  from  Vienna?  " 

She  drew  the  general  aside  into  one  of  the  windows, 
leaving  me  alone  with  Mademoiselle  de  Meudon.  But  a 
minute  before,  and  I  had  given  the  world  for  such  an 
opportunity,  and  now  I  could  not  speak  a  syllable.  She, 
too,  seemed  equally  confused,  and  bent  over  a  large  vase 
of  moss-roses,  as  if  totally  occupied  by  their  arrangement. 
1  drew  nearer,  and  endeavoured  to  address  her,  but  the 
words  would  not  come,  while  a  hundred  gushing  thoughts 
pressed  on  me,  and  my  heart  beat  loud  enough  for  me  to 
hear  it.  At  last  I  saw  her  lips  move,  and  thought  I  heard 
my  name  ;  I  bent  down  my  head  lower ;  it  was  her  voice, 
but  so  low  as  to  be  scarcely  audible. 

"  I  cannot  thank  you,  sir,  as  I  could  wish,"  said  she, 
"  for  the  service  you  rendered  me,  at  the  risk  of  your  own 
life  and  honour.  And  though  I  knew  not  the  dangers  you 
were  to  incur  by  my  request,  I  asked  it  as  of  the  only  one 
I  knew  who  would  brave  such  danger  at  my  asking." 
She  paused  for  a  second,  then  continued  :  "  The  friend  of 
Charles  could  not  but  be  the  friend  of  Marie  de  Meudon. 


880  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

There  is  now  another  favour  I  would  beg  at  your  hands," 
said  she,  while  a  livid  paleness  overspread  her  features. 

"  Oh,  name  it  1  "  said  I,  passionately.  "  Say,  how  can 
1  serve  you  ?  " 

"  It  is  this,"  said  she,  with  an  accent  whose  solemnity 
sank  into  the  very  recesses  of  my  heart :  "  We  have  ever 
been  an  unlucky  race.  De  Meudon  is  but  a  name  for  mis- 
fortune ;  not  only  have  we  met  little  else  in  our  own  lives, 
but  all  who  have  befriended  us  have  paid  the  penalty  of 
their  friendship.  My  dear  brother  knew  this  well ;  and 

I ."  She  paused,  and  then,  though  her  lips  moved, 

the  words  that  followed  were  inaudible.  "  There  is  but 
one  on  earth,"  continued  she,  as  her  eyes,  brimful  of  tears, 
were  turned  towards  Madame  Bonaparte,  who  still  stood 
talking  in  the  window,  "  over  whose  fortunes  my  affection 
has  thrown  no  blight.  Heaven  grant  it  may  be  ever  so !  " 
Then  suddenly,  as  if  remembering  herself,  she  added : 
"  What  I  would  ask  is  this — that  we  should  meet  no  more, 
ifay,  nay,  look  not  so  harshly  at  me.  If  I,  alone  in  the 
world,  ask  to  be  deprived  of  his  friendship  who  loved 
my  brother  so " 

"  Oh !  if  you  be  alone  in  the  world,  feel  for  one  like  rne, 
who  has  not  even  a  country  he  can  call  his  own.  Take 
not  the  one  hope  from  my  heart,  I  ask  you.  Leave  me  the 
thought  that  there  is  one,  but  one,  in  all  this  land,  to 
whom  my  name,  if  ever  mentior  ed  with  praise,  can  bring 
one  moment's  pleasure — who  can  say  '  I  knew  him.'  Do 
not  forget  that  Charles,  with  his  dying  breath,  said  you 
would  be  my  sister." 

The  door  of  the  salon  opened  suddenly,  and  a  name 
was  announced,  but  in  my  confusion  I  heard  not  what. 
Madame  Bonaparte,  however,  advanced  towards  the  new 
arrival  with  an  air  of  welcome,  as  she  said, — 

"  We  were  just  wishing  for  you,  general.  Pray  tell  us 
all  the  news  of  Paris." 

The  person  thus  addressed  was  a  very  tall  and  singularly 
handsome  man,  whose  dark  eyes,  and  dark  whiskers  meet- 
ing in  the  middle  of  his  chin,  gave  him  the  appearance  of 
an  Italian.  He  was  dressed  in  a  hussar  uniform,  whose 
gorgeous  braiding  of  gold  was  heightened  in  effect  by  a 
blaze  of  orders  and  stars  that  covered  the  entire  breast; 
the  scarlet  pantaloons,  tight  to  the  leg,  displayed  to  ad  van- 


A  MORNING    AT    "THE    TUILERIES.*'  881 

tage  the  perfect  symmetry  of  his  form,  while  his  boots  of 
yellow  morocco,  bound  and  tasselled  with  gold,  seemed 
the  very  coquetry  of  military  costume.  A  sabre,  the  hi.t 
actually  covered  with  precious  stones,  clanked  at  his  side, 
and  the  aigrette  of  his  plumed  hat  was  a  large  diamond. 
There  was  something  almost  theatrical  in  the  manner  of 
his  approach,  as  with  a  stately  step  and  a  deep  bow  he 
took  Madame  Bonaparte's  hand  and  kissed  it ;  a  cere- 
mony he  repeated  to  Mademoiselle  de  Meudon,  adding,  as 

1  1 "   1  *  O  * 

he  did  so, — 

"  And  my  fair  Rose  de  Provence — more  beautiful  than 
ever! — how  is  she?  " 

"  What  flattery  is  he  whispering,  Marie  ? "  said  the 
Consulesse,  laughing.  "  Don't  you  know,  general,  that  I 
insist  on  all  the  compliments  here  being  paid  to  myself. 
What  do  you  think  of  my  robe  ? — your  judgment  is  said 
to  be  perfect." 

"  Charming — absolutely  charming !  "  said  he,  in  an 
attitude  of  affected  admiration.  "  It  is  only  such  taste  as 
yours  could  have  devised  anything  so  beautiful.  Yet  the 
roses — I  half  think  I  should  have  preferred  them  white." 

"  You  can  scarcely  imagine  that  vain  fellow  with  the 
long  ringlets  the  boldest  soldier  of  the  French  army,"  said 
the  general,  in  a  lotor  whisper,  as  he  drew  me  to  one  side. 

"  Indeed  !     And  who  is  he,  then  ?  " 

"You  a  hussar,  and  not  know  him  !  Why,  Murat,  to  be 
sure." 

"  So  then,  madame,  all  my  news  of  Monsieur  Talleyrand's 
ball,  it  seems,  is  stale  already.  You've  heard  that  the 
Russian  and  Austrian  ministers  both  sent  apologies  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear  !  "  said  she,  sighing  ;  "  have  I  not  heard  it  a 
thousand  times,  and  every  reason  for  it  canvassed,  until  I 
wished  both  of  their  excellencies  at — at  Madame  Lefebvre's 
dinner-party  ?  " 

"  That  was  perfect,"  cried  Murat,  aloud  ;  "  a  regular 
bivouac  in  a  salon.  You'd  think  that  the  silver  dishes  and 
the  gilt  candelabras  had  just  been  captured  from  the  enemy, 
and  that  the  cuisine  was  made  by  beat  of  drum." 

"  The  general  is  an  honest  man  and  a  brave  officer," 
said  D'Auvergne,  somewhat  nettled  at  the  tone  Murat 
spoke  in. 

"  No  small  boast  either,"  replied  the  other,  shrugging 


382  TOM   BTJKKE    OP    "OtJRS." 

his  shoulders  carelessly,  "in  the  times  and  the  land  we 
live  in." 

"And  what  of  Cambaceres's  soiree — how  did  it  go 
off?  "  interposed  Madame  Bonaparte,  anxious  to  relieve  the 
awkward  pause  that  followed. 

"  Like  everything  in  his  hotel — sombre,  stately,  and 
stupid  ;  the  company  all  dull,  who  would  be  agreeable 
everywhere  else  ;  the  tone  of  the  reception  laboured  and 
affected,  and  every  one  dying  to  get  away  to  Fouche's. 
It  was  his  second  night  for  receiving." 

"  Was  that  pleasanter,  then  ?  " 

"  A  hundred  times.  There  are  no  parties  like  his — one 
meets  everybody.  It  is  a  kind  of  neutral  territory  for  the 
Faubourg  and  the  Jacobin — the  partisan  of  our  people,  and 
the  followers  of  Heaven  knows  who.  Fouche  slips  about, 
whispering  the  same  anecdote  in  confidence  to  every  one, 
and  binding  each  to  secrecy.  Then,  as  every  one  comes 
there  to  spy  his  neighbour,  the  host  has  an  excellent 
opportunity  of  pumping  all  in  turn ;  and  while  they  all 
persist  in  telling  him  nothing  but  lies,  they  forget  that 
with  him  no  readier  road  could  lead  to  the  detection  of 
truth." 

"  The  Consul !  "  said  a  servant,  aloud,  as  the  door  opened 
and  closed  with  a  crash,  and  Bonaparte,  dressed  in  the 
uniform  of  the  Chasseurs  of  the  Guard,  and  covered  with 
dust,  entered. 

"  Was  Decres  here  ?  "  And  then,  without  waiting  for  a 
reply,  continued — "  It  is  settled — all  finally  arranged  ;  1 
told  you,  madame,  the  'pear  was  ripe.'  I  start  to-morrow 
for  Boulogne.  You,  Murat,  must  accompany  me ;  D'Au- 
vergne,  your  division  will  march  the  day  after.  Who  is 
this  gentleman  ?  " 

This  latter  question,  in  all  its  abruptness,  was  addressed 
to  me,  while  a  dark  and  ominous  frown  settled  on  his 
features. 

"  My  aide-de-camp,  sir,"  said  the  old  general,  hastily, 
hoping  thus  to  escape  further  inquiry. 

"  Your  name,  sir  ?  "  said  the  Consul,  harshly,  as  he  fixed 
his  piercing  eyes  upon  me. 

"  Burke,  sir  ;  sous-lieutenant — 

"  Of  the  8th  Hussars,"  continued  he.  "  I  know  the  rest, 
fir.  Every  conspiracy  is  made  up  of  knaves  and  fools ; 


A   MORNING   AT    "THE    TUILEEIES.*'  883 

you  figured  in  the  latter  capacity.  Mark  me,  sir,  your 
name  is  yet  to  make ;  the  time  is  approaching  when  you 
may  have  the  opportunity  ;  still,  General  d'Auvergne,  it  is 
not  in  the  ranks  of  a  Chouan  plot  I  should  have  gone  to 
select  my  staff." 

"  Pardon  me,  sir ;  but  this  young  man's  devotion  to 
you- — 

"  Is  on  record,  general ;  I  have  seen  it  in  Mehee  de  la 
Touche's  own  writing,"  added  Bonaparte,  with  a  sneer. 
"  Give  me  the  fidelity,  sir,  that  has  no  tarnish — like  your 
own,  D'Auvergne.  Go,  sir,"  said  he,  turning  to  me,  while 
he  waved  his  hand  towards  the  door.  "  It  will  need  all 
your  bravery  and  all  your  heroism  to  make  me  acquit 
General  d'Auvergne  of  an  act  of  folly." 

I  hung  my  head  in  shame,  and  with  a  low  reverence  and 
a  tottering  step  moved  from  the  room  and  closed  the  door 
behind  me. 

I  had  just  reached  the  street  when  the  general  overtook 
me. 

"  Come,  come,  Burke,"  said  he,  "  you  must  not  mind 
this.  I  heard  Lannes  receive  a  heavier  reproof,  because 
he  only  carried  away  three  guns  of  an  Austrian  battery, 
when  there  were  four  in  all." 

"  Bonaparte  never  forgets,  sir,"  muttered  I,  between 
my  teeth,  as  the  well-remembered  phrase  crossed  my 
mind. 

"  Then  there's  but  one  thing  to  do,  my  boy  ;  give  him  a 
pleasanter  souvenir  to  look  back  upon.  Besides,"  added 
he,  in  a  lower  tone,  "  the  general  is  ever  harsh  at  the  mo- 
ment of  victory  ;  and  such  is  the  present.  In  a  few  days 
more,  France  will  have  an  emperor  ;  the  Senate  has  de- 
clared, and  the  army  wait  but  for  the  signal  to  salute  their 
monarch.  And  now  for  your  own  duties.  Make  your 
arrangements  to  start  to-night  by  post  for  Mayence ;  I 
shall  join  you  there  in  about  ten  days.  You  are,  on  your 
arrival,  to  report  yourself  to  the  general  in  command,  and 
receive  your  instructions  from  him.  A  great  movement 
towards  the  Rhine  is  in  contemplation,  but,  of  course, 
everything  awaits  the  progress  of  political  changes  in 
Paris." 

Thus  conversing,  we  reached  the  corner  of  the  Hue  de 
Rohan,  where  the  general's  quarters  were, 


884  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS." 

"  You'll  be  here  then  punctually  at  eight  to-night,"  said 
he ;  and  we  parted. 

I  walked  on  for  some  time  without  knowing  which  way 
I  went,  the  strange  conflict  of  my  mind  so  completely 
absorbed  me — hope  and  fear,  pride,  shame,  and  sorrow 
alternately  swaying  me  with  their  impulses.  I  noticed  not 
the  gay  and  splendid  streets  through  which  I  passed,  nor 
the  merry  groups  which  poured  along.  At  length  I  re- 
membered that  but  a  few  hours  remained  for  me  to  maka 
some  purchases  necessary  for  my  journey.  My  new  uni- 
form as  aide-de-camp,  too,  was  yet  to  be  ordered  ;  and  by 
some  strange  hazard  I  was  exactly  at  the  corner  of  the 
Rue  de  Richelieu  on  the  Boulevard,  at  the  very  shop  of 
Monsieur  Crillac,  where,  some  months  before,  began  the 
singular  current  of  ill-luck  that  had  followed  me  ever 
since.  A  half-shudder  of  fear  passed  across  me  for  a 
second  as  I  thought  of  all  the  dangers  I  had  gone  through, 
and  the  next  moment  I  felt  ashamed  of  my  cowardice,  and 
pushing  the  glass  door  before  me,  walked  in.  I  looked 
about  me  for  the  well-known  face  of  the  proprietor,  but 
he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  A  lean  and  wasted  little  old 
man,  hung  round  with  tapes  and  measures,  was  the  only 
person  there.  Saluting  me  with  a  most  respectful  bow, 
he  asked  my  orders. 

"  I  thought  this  was  Crillao's,"  said  I,  hesitatingly. 

A  shrug  of  the  shoulders  and  a  strange  expression  of 
the  eyebrows  was  the  only  reply. 

"  I  remember  he  lived  here  some  eight  or  ten  months 
ago,"  said  I  again,  curious  to  find  out  the  meaning  of  the 
man's  ignorance  of  his  predecessor. 

"  Monsieur  has  been  away  from  Paris  for  some  time 
then  ?  "  was  the  cautious  question  of  the  little  man,  as  he 
peered  curiously  at  me. 

"  Y"es  ;  I  have  been  away,"  said  I,  after  a  pause. 

"  Monsieur  knew  Crillac  probably  when  he  was  here  ?  '* 

"  I  never  saw  him  but  once,"  said  I. 

"  Ha !  "  cried  he,  after  a  long  silence.  "  Then  you 
probably  never  heard  of  the  Chonan  conspiracy  to  murder 
the  Chief  Consul  and  overthrow  the  Government,  nor  of 
their  trial  at  the  Palais  de  Justice  ?  " 


I  nodded  slightly,  and  he  went  on. 
"  Monsieur  Crillac's  evidence  was  of 


great  value  in  the 


A  MOIINING   AT    "  THE    TUILERIE8."  385 

proceeding  :  he  knew  Jules  de  Polignac  and  Charles  de  la 
Riviere  well;  and  but  for  him,  San  Victor  would  have 
escaped." 

"  And  what  has  become  of  him  since  ?  " 
1  He  is  gone  back  to  the  south  ;  he  has  been  promoted." 

"  Promoted  ! — what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Parbleu!  it  is  easy  enough  to  understand.  He  was 
made  clief  de  bureau  in  the  department  of " 

"  What!  was  he  not  a  tailor  then?" 

"A  tailor! — no,"  said  the  little  man,  laughing  heartily, 
"  he  was  a  mouchard,  a  police  spy,  who  knew  all  the 
royalist  party  well  at  Bordeaux,  and  Fouche  brought  him 
up  here  to  Paris,  and  established  him  in  this  house.  Ah, 
mon  Dieu  /"  said  he,  sighing,  "  he  had  a  better  and  a  plea- 
santer  occupation  thau  cutting  out  pantaloons." 

Without  heeding  the  reiterated  professions  of  the  little 
tailor  of  his  desire  for  my  patronage,  1  strolled  out  again, 
lost  in  reflection,  and  sick  to  the  heart  of  a  system  based 
on  such  duplicity  and  deception. 


At  last  in  Mayence.  What  a  change  of  life  was  this  to 
me  !  A  large  fortress  garrisoned  by  twelve  thousand  men, 
principally  artillery,  awaited  here  the  orders  of  the  Consul; 
but  whither  the  destination  before  them,  or  what  the  hour 
when  the  word  to  march  was  to  summon  them,  none  could 
tell.  Meanwhile  the  activity  of  the  troops  was  studiously 
kept  up  ;  battering  trains  of  field  artillery  were  exercised 
day  after  day ;  the  men  were  practised  in  all  the  move- 
ments of  the  field  ;  while  the  foundries  were  unceasingly 
occupied  in  casting  guns,  and  the  furnaces  rolled  forth 
their  myriads  of  shell  and  shot.  Staff  officers  came  and 
went ;  expresses  arrived  from  Paris,  and  orderlies,  travel- 
stained  and  tired,  galloped  in  from  the  other  fortified 
places  near,  but  still  no  whisper  came  to  say  where  the 
great  game  of  war  was  to  open — for  what  quarter  of  the 
globe  the  terrible  carnage  was  destined.  From  daylight 
till  dark  no  moment  of  our  time  was  unoccupied  :  reports 
innumerable  were  to  be  furnished  on  every  possible  sub- 
ject, and  frequently  it  was  far  in  the  night  ere  I  returned 
to  rest.  To  others  this  unbroken  monotony  may  have 
been  wearisome  and  uninteresting ;  to  me  each  incident 


'<»?()  TOM   BURKE   OP   "  OURS." 

bore  upon  the  great  cause  I  gloried  in ;  the  dull  rumble  of 
the  caissons,  the  heavy  clattering  of  the  brass  guns,  were 
music  to  my  ear,  and  I  never  wearied  of  the  din  and 
•lamour  that  spoke  of  preparation.  Such  was  indeed  the 
preoccupation  of  my  thoughts,  that  I  scarcely  marked  the 
course  of  events  which  were  even  then  passing,  or  the 
mighty  changes  that  already  moved  across  the  destinies  of 
France.  To  my  eyes  the  conqueror  of  Lodi  needed  no 
title — what  sceptre  could  equal  his  own  sword  ?  France 
might  desire  in  her  pride  to  unite  her  destinies  with  such 
a  name  as  his,  but  he,  the  general  of  Italy  and  Egypt, 
could  not  be  exalted  by  any  dignity.  Such  were  my 
boyish  fancies,  and,  as  I  indulged  them,  again  there  grew 
up  the  hope  within  me  that  a  brighter  day  was  yet  to 
beam  on  my  own  fortunes,  when  I  should  do  that  which 
even  in  his  eyes  might  seem  worthy.  His  very  reproaches 
stirred  my  courage  and  nerved  my  heart.  There  was  a 
combat — there  was  a  battle-field  before  me,  in  which  my 
whole  fame  and  honour  lay ;  and  could  I  but  succeed  in 
making  him  confess  that  he  had  wronged  me,  what  pride 
was  in  the  thought.  "  Yes,"  said  I,  again  and  again,  "  a 
devotion  to  him  such  as  I  can  offer  must  have  success : 
one  who,  like  me,  has  neither  home,  nor  friends,  nor 
country,  to  share  his  heart,  must  have  room  in  it  for  one 
passion,  and  that  shall  be  glory.  She  whom  alone  I  could 
have  loved — I  dared  not  confess  I  did  love  her — never 
could  be  mine.  Life  must  have  its  object,  and  what  so 
noble  as  that  before  me."  My  very  dreams  caught  up  the 
infatuation  of  my  waking  thoughts — and  images  of  battle, 
deadly  contests,  and  terrific  skirmishes  were  constantly 
passing  before  me ;  and  I  actually  went  my  daily  rounds 
of  duty  buried  in  these  thoughts,  and  lost  to  everything 
save  what  ministered  to  my  excited  imagination. 

We  who  lived  far  away  on  the  distant  frontier  could  but 
collect  from  the  journals  the  state  of  excitement  and 
enthusiasm  into  which  every  class  of  the  capital  was 
thrown  by  Napoleon's  elevation  to  the  monarchy.  Never, 
perhaps,  in  any  country,  did  the  current  of  popular  favour 
run  in  a  stream  so  united.  The  army  hailed  him  as  their 
brother  of  the  sword,  and  felt  the  proud  distinction  that 
the  chief  of  the  Empire  was  chosen  from  their  ranka. 
The  civilian  sg.w  the  restoration  of  monarchy  as  the  pledge 


A   MOENING   AT    "THE    TUILERIES."  887 

of  that  security  which  alone  was  wanting  to  consolidate 
national  prosperity.  The  clergy,  however  they  may  have 
distrusted  his  sincerity,  could  not  but  acknowledge  that 
to  his  influence  was  owing  the  return  of  the  ancient  faith  ; 
and,  save  the  Vendeans,  broken  and  discomfited,  and  the 
scattered  remnants  of  the  Jacobin  party,  discouraged  by 
the  fate  of  Moreau,  none  raised  a  voice  against  him.  A 
few  of  the  old  Kennhl icons,  among  whom  was  Carnot, 
did,  it  is  true,  proclaim  their  disaent ;  Out  so  moderately, 
and  with  so  little  of  partisan  spirit,  as  to  call  forth  a 
eulogium  on  their  honourable  conduct  from  Napoleon 
himself. 

The  mighty  change  which  was  to  undo  all  the  long  and 
arduous  struggles  for  liberty,  which  took  years  in  their 
accomplishment,  was  effected  in  one  burst  of  national 
enthusiasm.  Surrounded  by  nations  on  whose  friendship 
they  dared  not  reckon,  at  war  with  their  most  powerful 
enemy,  England,  France  saw  herself  dependent  on  the 
genius  of  one  great  man ;  and  beheld,  too,  the  formidable 
conspiracy  for  his  assassination,  coupled  with  the  schemes 
against  her  own  independence.  He  became  thus  indis- 
solubly  linked  with  her  fortunes — self-interest  and  grati- 
tude pointed  both  in  the  same  direction  to  secure  his 
services ;  and  the  imperial  crown  was,  indeed,  less  the 
reward  of  the  past,  than  the  price  of  the  future.  Even 
they  who  loved  him  least,  felt  that  in  his  guidance  there 
was  safety  ;  and  that,  without  him,  the  prospect  was  dark, 
and  dreary,  and  threatening.  Another  element  which 
greatly  contributed  to  the  same  effect,  was  the  social  ruin 
caused  by  the  Revolution  ;  the  destruction  of  all  commerce, 
the  forfeiture  of  property,  had  thrown  every  class  into 
the  service  of  the  Government.  Men  gladly  advocated  a 
change  by  which  the  ancient  forms  of  a  monarchy  might 
be  restored,  and  with  them  the  long  train  of  patronage 
and  appointments,  their  inevitable  attendants.  Even  the 
old  families  of  the  kingdom  hailed  the  return  of  an  order 
of  things  which  might  include  them  in  the  favours  of  the 
Crown ;  and  the  question  now  was,  what  rank  or  class 
should  be  foremost  in  tendering  their  allegiance  to  the 
new  sovereign.  We  should  hesitate  ere  we  condemn  the 
sudden  impulse  by  which  many  were  driven  at  this  period. 
Confiscation  and  exile  had  doue  much  to  break  the  spirit 


888  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS.'* 

of  even  the  hardiest ;  and  the  very  return  to  the  institu- 
tions in  which  all  their  ancient  prejudices  were  involved, 
seemed  a  pledge  against  the  tyranny  of  the  mass. 

As  for  Napoleon  himself,  each  step  in  his  proud  career 
seemed  to  evoke  the  spirit  necessary  to  direct  it — the 
resources  of  his  mighty  intellect  appeared  with  every  new 
drain  on  them,  only  the  more  inexhaustible.  Animated 
through  his  whole  life  by  the  one  great  principle,  the 
Aggrandizement  of  France — his  vast  intelligence  gather- 
ing strength  with  his  own  increase  of  power,  enabled  him 
to  cultivate  every  element  of  national  greatness,  and 
mould  their  energies  to  his  will,  till  at  length  the  nation 
seemed  but  one  vast  body,  of  which  he  was  the  heart,  the 
impulse,  that  sent  the  life-blood  bounding  through  all  its 
urteries,  and  with  whose  beating  pnlses  every,  even  the 
most  remote  portion,  throbbed  in  unison. 

The  same  day  that  established  the  Empire,  declared  the 
rank  and  dignity  accorded  to  each  member  of  the  royal 
family,  with  the  titles  to  be  borne  by  the  ministers  and 
Dther  high  officers  of  the  Crown.  The  next  step  was  the 
creation  of  a  new  order  of  nobility — one  which,  without 
ancient  lineage  or  vast  possessions,  could  still  command 
the  respect  and  admiration  of  all — the  marshals  of  France. 
The  names  of  Berthier,  Murat,  Augereau,  Massena,  Ber- 
nadotte,  Ney,  Soult,  Lannes,  Mortier,  Davoust,  Bessieres, 
were  enough  to  throw  a  blaze  of  lustre  on  the  order ;  and 
had  it  not  been  for  the  omission  of  Macdonald's  name  in 
this  glorious  list,  public  enthusiasm  had  been  complete ; 
but  then  he  was  the  friend  of  Moreau,  and  Bonaparte 
"did  not  Jorgive." 

Ine  restoration  of  the  old  titles,  so  long  in  abeyance, 
the  return  to  the  pomp  and  state  of  monarchy,  seemed 
like  a  national  f£te,  and  Paris  became  the  scene  of  a 
splendid  festivity  and  a  magnificence  unknown  for  many 
years  past.  It  was  necessary  for  the  new  Court  to  make 
its  impression  on  the  world,  and  the  endeavour  was  to 
eclipse,  by  luxury  and  splendour,  the  grandeur  which,  in 
the  days  of  the  Bourbons,  was  an  heirloom  of  royalty. 
To  this  end  functionaries  and  officers  of  the  palace  were 
appointed  in  myriads — brilliant  and  costly  uniforms 
adopted — courtly  titles  and  ceremonial  observances  in- 
creased without  end — and  etiquette,  carried  to  a  pitch  of 


A   MOliNING    AT    "THE    TUILERIES."  889 

strictness  which  no  former  reign  had  ever  exhibited,  now 
regulated  every  department  of  the  state. 

While,  however,  nothing  was  too  minute  or  too  trivial, 
provided  that  it  bore,  even  in  the  remotest  way,  on  the 
re-establishment  of  that  throne  he  had  so  long  and  so 
ardently  desired,  Napoleon's  great  mind  was  eagerly  bent 
upon  the  necessity  of  giving  to  the  Empire  one  of  those 
astounding  evidences  of  his  genius,  which  marked  him  as 
above  all  other  men.  He  wished  to  show  to  France  that 
the  crown  had  devolved  upon  the  rightful  successor  to 
Charlemagne,  and  to  prove  to  the  army  that  the  purple 
mantle  of  royalty  could  not  conceal  the  spur  of  the 
warrior ;  and  thus,  while  all  believed  him  occupied  with 
the  ordinary  routine  of  the  period,  his  ambitious  thoughts 
were  carrying  him  away  across  the  Pyrenees,  or  beyond 
the  Danube,  to  battle-fields  of  even  greater  glory  than 
ever,  and  to  conquests  prouder  than  all  his  former  ones. 

The  same  power  of  concentrativeness  that  he  so  emi- 
nently possessed  himself,  he  imparted,  as  if  by  magic,  to 
his  government.  Paris  was  France.  To  the  capital 
flocked  all  whose  talent  or  zeal  prompted  them  to  seek  for 
advancement.  The  Emperor  was  not  only  the  fountain  of 
all  honour,  but  of  all  emolument  and  place.  No  patronage 
was  exercised  without  his  permission,  and  none  was  con- 
ferred without  the  conviction  that  some  stanch  adherent 
was  secured,  whose  friendship  was  ratified,  or  whose 
former  enmity  was  conciliated. 

Thus  passed  the  year  that  followed  his  accession  to  the 
throne — that  brilliant  pageant  of  a  nation's  enthusiasm 
rendering  tribute  to  the  majesty  of  intellect.  At  length 
the  period  of  inaction  seemed  drawing  to  a  close ;  and  a 
greater  activity  in  the  war  department,  and  a  new  levy  of 
troops,  betokened  the  approach  of  some  more  energetic 
measures.  Men  whispered  that  the  English  expedition 
was  about  to  sail,  and  reinforcements  of  ammunition  and 
artillery  were  despatched  to  the  coast;  when  suddenly 
came  the  news  of  Trafalgar:  Villeneuve  was  beaten — 
his  fleet  annihilated — the  whole  combination  of  events 
destroyed — and  England,  again  triumphant  on  the  element 
she  had  made  her  own,  hurled  defiance  at  the  threats  of 
her  enemy.  The  same  despatch  that  brought  the  intelli- 
gence to  Mayence  told  us  to  be  in  readiness  for  a  move- 


890  TOM    BUKKE    OF    " 

ment,  but  when,  or  where  to,  none  of  us  could  surmise. 
Still  detachments  from  various  corps  stationed  about  were 
marched  into  the  garrison,  skeleton  regiments  commanded 
to  make  up  their  deficiencies,  and  a  renewed  energy  was 
everywhere  perceptible.  At  last,  towards  the  middle  of 
August,  I  was  sent  for  by  the  general  in  command  of  the 
fortress,  and  informed  that  General  d'Auvergne  had  been 
promoted  to  the  command  of  a  cavalry  brigade  stationed 
at  Coblentz. 

"  You  are  to  join  him  there  immediately,"  continued  he ; 

but  here  is  a  note  from  himself,  which  probably  will 
explain  everything." 

And  with  that  he  handed  me  a  small  sealed  letter.  It 
was  the  first,  save  on  purely  regimental  matters,  I  had 
ever  received  from  him,  and  somehow  I  felt  unusually 
anxious  about  its  contents.  It  ran  in  these  words: — 

"  MY  DEAR  B., — His  Majesty  has  just  sent  for  me,  and, 
most  graciously  esteeming  me  not  yet  too  old  to  serve 
him,  has  given  me  the  command  of  a  brigade — late  the 
12th,  now  to  be  called  '  D'Auvergne's  Cavalry.'  I  would 
willingly  have  mentioned  your  name  for  promotion,  to 
which  your  zeal  and  activity  would  well  entitle  you,  but 
deemed  it  better  to  let  your  claim  come  before  the  Em- 
peror's personal  notice — which  an  opportunity  will,  I  trust. 
soon  permit  of  its  doing.  His  Majesty,  with  a  kindness 
which  the  devotion  of  a  life  could  not  repay,  has  also 
interested  himself  personally  for  me  in  a  quarter  where 
only  his  influence  could  have  proved  successful — but  the 
explanation  of  this  I  reserve  for  your  arrival.  And  now 
I  request  that  you  will  lose  no  time  in  repairing  to  Paris 

>rhere  I  shall  expect  to  see  you  by  Tuesday. 

"  Yours, 

"  D'AuvERGNE,  Lieut  -General" 

This  strange  paragraph  puzzled  me  not  a  little  ;  nor 
could  I,  by  any  exercise  of  ingenuity,  find  out  even  a 
plausible  meaning  for  it.  I  read  it  over  and  over,  weigh- 
ing and  canvassing  every  word,  and  torturing  each  syllable 
— but  all  to  no  purpose.  Had  the  general  been  some  youth- 


A   MORNING   AT    "  THE    TUILERIES."  891 

ful  but  unhappy  lover,  to  forward  whose  suit  the  Emperor 
had  lent  his  influence,  then  had  I  understood  the  allusion; 
but  with  the  old  weather-beaten  officer,  whose  hairs  were 
blanched  with  years  and  service,  the  very  thought  of  such 
a  thing  was  too  absurd.  Yet  what  could  be  the  royal  favour 
so  lavishly  praised :  he  needed  no  intercession  with  the 
Empress — at  least  I  remembered  well  how  marked  the 
kindness  of  Josephine  was  towards  him  in  former  times. 
But  to  what  use  guessing  ?  Thoughts,  by  long  revolving, 
often  become  only  the  more  entangled,  and  we  lose  sight 
of  the  real  difficulty  in  canvassing  our  own  impressions 
concerning  it.  And  so  from  this  text  did  I  spin  away  a 
hundred  fancies  that  occupied  me  the  whole  road  to  Paris, 
nor  left  me  till  the  din  and  movement  of  the  great  capital 
banished  all  other  reflections. 

Arrangement  had  been  made  for  my  reception  at  the 
Rue  de  Rohan,  but  I  learned  that  the  general  was  at  Ver- 
sailles with  the  Court,  and  only  came  up  to  Paris  once  or 
twice  each  week.  His  direction  to  me  was,  to  wait  for  hie 
arrival,  and  not  to  leave  the  city  on  any  account. 

With  what  a  strange  feeling  did  I  survey  the  Palace  of 
the  Tuileries — the  scene  of  my  first  moment  of  delighted 
admiration  of  her  I  now  loved — and,  alas !  of  my  first 
step  in  the  long  catalogue  of  my  misfortunes.  I  lingered 
about  the  gardens  with  a  fascination  I  could  not  account 
for ;  my  destiny  seemed  somehow  linked  with  the  spot, 
and  I  could  not  reason  myself  out  of  the  notion  but  that 
there,  in  that  great  pile,  the  fate  of  my  whole  life  was  to 
be  decided. 

My  entire  day  was  passed  in  this  way,  and  evening 
found  me  seated  on  one  of  the  benches  near  the  windows 
of  the  pavilion,  where  I  watched  the  lustres  in  the  long 
gallery  as  one  by  one  they  burst  into  light,  and  saw  the 
gilt  candelabras  twinkling  as  each  taper  was  illuminated. 
It  was  an  evening  reception  of  the  Emperor,  and  I  could 
mark  the  vast  assemblage,  in  every  variety  of  uniform, 
that  filled  the  salons.  At  length  the  drums  beat  for 
strangers  to  leave  the  gardens,  the  patrols  passed  on,  and 
gradually  the  crowded  walks  became  thinner  and  thinner, 
the  sounds  of  the  drum  grew  fainter,  and  finally  the  whole 
space  became  still  and  noiseless ;  not  a  voice  was  to  be 
heard,  not  a  step  moved  on  the  gravel.  I  knew  that  the 


892  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

gates  were  now  locked,  and  yet  I  stayed  on,  glad  to  be 
alone,  and  at  leisure  to  dream  away  among  the  fancies 
that  kept  ever  rising  to  my  mind,  and  to  follow  out  the 
trains  of  thought  that  ever  and  anon  opened  before  me. 

As  the  honr  grew  later,  and  the  salons  filled  more  and 
more,  the  windows  were  opened  along  the  terrace  to  give 
air,  and  I  could  hear  the  continued  murmur  of  hundreds 
of  voices  conversing,  while  at  times  the  sound  of  laughter 
rose  above  the  rest.  What  a  rush  of  thoughts  came  on 
me  as  I  sat ;  how  did  I  picture  to  myself  the  dark  in- 
trigues, the  subtle  plots  of  wily  diplomatists,  the  bold  and 
daring  aspirations  of  the  brave  soldiers,  the  high  hopes, 
and  the  ambitious  yearnings,  that  were  all  commingled 
there,  grouped  around  him  whose  dreams  were  of  univer- 
sal empire.  While  I  mused,  the  night  glided  on,  and  the 
solemn  sound  of  the  bell  of  Notre  Dame  proclaimed  mid- 
night. I  now  could  mark  that  the  salons  were  thinning, 
and  the  unceasing  din  of  carriages  in  the  "  place  "  an- 
nounced the  departure  of  the  guests.  In  little  more  than 
half  an  hour  the  great  gallery  was  empty,  and  but  a  few 
groups  remained  in  the  apartments  adjoining ;  even  they 
soon  departed,  and  then  I  could  see  the  servants  passing 
from  room  to  room  extinguishing  the  lights,  and  soon  the 
great  f'a9ade  of  the  palace  was  wrapped  in  darkness :  a 
twinkling  light  appeared  here  and  there  for  some  time, 
but  it  too  went  out.  The  night  was  calm,  and  still,  and 
sultry ;  not  a  leaf  stirred,  and  the  heavy  tread  of  the 
sentinels,  as  they  paced  the  marble  vestibule,  was  heard 
plainly  where  I  stood. 

How  full  of  thought  to  me  was  that  vast  pile,  now 
shrouded  in  the  gloom  of  night.  What  bold,  ambitious 
deeds — what  dreams  of  empire- — had  not  been  conceived 
there!  The  great  of  other  days,  indeed,  entered  little 
into  my  mind,  as  I  remembered  it  was  the  home  of  him, 
the  greatest  of  them  all.  How  terrible,  too,  it  was  to 
think,  that  within  that  silent  palace,  which  seemed  sleep- 
ing with  the  tranquil  quiet  of  an  humble  cottage,  the 
dreadful  plans  which  were  to  convulse  the  world,  to  shake 
thrones  and  dynasties,  to  make  of  Europe  a  vast  battle- 
field, were  now  devising.  The  masses  of  dark  cloud  that 
hung  heavily  in  the  air,  obscuring  the  sky,  and  shutting 
out  every  star,  seemed  to  my  fevered  imagination  an 


A  MOKNING   AT    "  THE   TTJILEBIES."  393 

augury  of  evil ;  and  the  oppressive,  loaded  atmosphere, 
though  perfumed  with  the  odour  of  flowers,  sunk  heavily 
on  the  spirits.  Again  the  hour  rang  out,  and  I  remem- 
bered that  the  gates  of  the  garden  were  now  closed  for 
the  night,  and  that  I  should  remain  where  I  was  till  day- 
light liberated  me.  My  mind  was,  however,  too  full  of 
its  own  thoughts  to  make  me  care  for  sleep,  and  I  strolled 
along  the  gloomy  walks  lost  in  reverie. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

A   NIGHT   IN    TUB   TVILKRIE3    GARDENS. 

As  the  night  wore  on,  I  remembered  that  once,  when  a 
boy  at  the  Polytechnique,  I  longed  to  penetrate  one  of 
the  little  enclosures  which  fenced  the  small  flower-gardens 
beside  the  palace,  and  which  were  railed  up  from  the 
public  promenades  by  a  low  iron  railing.  The  bouquets 
of  rich  flowers  that  grew  there,  sparkling  with  the  light 
dew  of  a  little  jet  d'eau  that  fell  in  rain-drops  over  them, 
had  often  tempted  my  young  heart ;  but  still,  in  the  day- 
time, such  a  transgression  would  have  been  immediately 
punished.  Now,  with  the  strange  caprice  which  so  often 
prompts  us  in  after  years  to  do  that  which  in  youth  we 
wished,  but  could  not  accomplish,  I  wandered  towards 
the  gardens,  and  crossing  over  the  low  fence,  entered  the 
parterre :  each  step  awoke  the  sleeping  perfume  of  the 
flowers,  and  I  strolled  along  the  velvet  turf  until  I 
reached  a  low  bench,  half  covered  with  honeysuckle  and 
woodbine.  Here  I  threw  myself  down,  and,  wrapping  my 
cloak  around  me,  resolved  to  rest  till  daybreak.  The  still- 
ness of  all  around,  the  balmy  air,  and  my  own  musings, 
gradually  conspired  to  make  me  drowsy,  and  I  slept. 

My   sleep   could    not    have   been    long,   when   I   was 
awakened  by  a  noise  close  beside  me.     I  started  up  and 


394  TQM   BURKE   OF   »•  CURB." 

looked  about,  and  for  some  seconds  I  could  scarcely 
credit  that  I  was  not  still  dreaming.  Not  more  than  a 
dozen  paces  from  where  I  lay,  and  where  before  the  dark 
walls  of  the  palace  rose  in  unbroken  blackness,  was  now  a 
chamber,  brilliantly  lighted  up  by  several  wax-lights  that 
stood  on  a  table.  At  the  window,  which  opened  to  the 
ground,  and  led  into  the  garden,  stood  the  figure  of  a 
man,  but  from  his  position  before  the  light  I  could  not 
remark  more  than  that  he  wore  epaulettes.  It  was  the 
noise  of  the  opening  jalousies  which  awoke  me ;  and  I 
could  see  his  hand  stretched  out,  as  if  to  ascertain  whether 
or  not  it  was  raining.  At  the  table  I  could  perceive 
another  person,  on  whose  uniform  the  light  fell  strongly, 
displaying  many  a  cross  and  star,  which  twinkled  with 
every  stir  he  made.  He  was  busily  engaged  writing, 
and  never  lifted  his  head  from  the  paper.  The  walls  of 
the  room  were  covered  with  shelves,  tilled  with  books; 
and  on  the  chairs  about,  and  even  on  the  floor,  lay  maps 
and  drawings  in  every  disorder ;  a  sword  and  belt,  as  if 
just  taken  off,  lay  on  the  table  among  the  writing  mate- 
rials, and  a  cocked  hat  beside  them.  While  I  noticed 
these  details  my  very  heart  was  chill  within  me.  The 
dark  figure  at  the  window,  which  stirred  not,  seemed  as  if 
turned  towards  me,  and  more  than  once  I  almost  thought 
I  could  see  his  eyes  bent  upon  me.  This  was,  however, 
but  the  mere  suggestion  of  my  own  fears,  for  in  the 
shade  of  the  seat  no  light  whatever  fell,  and  I  was  per- 
fectly concealed. 

In  the  deep  stillness  I  could  hear  the  scraping  sound  of 
the  pen  on  the  paper,  and  scarcely  dared  to  breath,  lest  I 
should  cause  discovery,  when  the  figure  retired  from  the 
window,  and  moved  towards  the  table  ;  for  some  minutes 
he  appeared  to  stoop  over  a  large  map,  which  lay  out- 
stretched before  him,  and  across  which  I  could  see  his 
finger  moving  rapidly.  Suddenly  he  stood  erect,  and  in  a 
voice  which  even  now  rings  within  my  heart,  said:  "It 
must  be  so,  Duroc ;  by  any  other  route  Bernadotte  will 
be  too  late !  "  What  was  the  reply  I  know  not,  such 
terror  now  fell  over  me.  It  was  the  Emperor  himself 
who  spoke.  It  was  he  who  the  instant  before  was  stand- 
ing close  beside  me  at  the  window  ;  and  thus,  a  second 
time  iu  my  life,  did  I  become  the  unwilling  eavesdropper 


A  NIGHT   IN   THE   TUILERIES   GARDENS.  895 

of  the  man  I  most  feared  and  respected  of  all  the  world. 
Before  I  could  summon  resolution  to  withdraw,  Napoleon 
spoke  again.  "  Hardenberg,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  con- 
temptuous passion — "  Hardenberg  is  but  a  Prussian  ;  the 
event  will  satisfy  his  scruples  ;  besides,  if  they  do  talk 
about  invasion  of  territory,  you  can  reply  ;  the  Margraves 
were  always  open  to  belligerent  parties ;  remind  them  of 
what  took  place  in  '96,  and  again  in  1800,  though,  parbleu, 
the  souvenir  may  not  be  so  pleasant  a  one ;  protract  the 
discussion,  at  all  events,  Duroc  ;  time! — time!  Then," 
added  he,  after  a  brief  pause,  "  let  them  advance,  and 
they'll  never  pass  the  Danube ;  and  if  they  wait  for  me, 
I'll  fall  upon  them  here — here,  between  Ulm  and  Augsburg. 
You  must,  however,  start  for  Berlin  at  once."  At  this 
instant  a  heavy  hand  fell  upon  my  shoulder,  and,  passing 
down  rny  arm,  seized  me  by  the  wrist.  I  started  back, 
and  beheld  a  dragoon,  for  so  his  helmet  and  cloak  bespoke, 
of  enormous  stature,  who,  motioning  me  to  silence,  led  me 
softly  and  with  noiseless  step  along  the  flower-beds,  as  if 
fearful  of  attracting  the  Emperor's  notice.  My  limbs  tot- 
tered beneath  me  as  I  went,  for  the  dreadful  imputation 
an  accident  might  fix  on  me,  stared  on  me  with  all  its 
awful  consequences.  Without  a  word  on  either  side  we 
reached  the  little  railing,  crossed  it,  and  regained  the  open 
park,  when  the  soldier,  placing  himself  in  front  of  me, 
said,  in  a  deep,  low  voice, — 

"  Your  name — who  are  you  ?  " 

"  An  officer  of  the  huitieme  regiment  of  hussars,"  said 
I,  boldly. 

"  We  shall  see  that  presently,"  replied  he,  in  a  tone  of 
disbelief.  "  How  came  you  here  ?  " 

In  a  few  words  I  explained  how,  having  remained  too 
late  in  the  garden,  I  preferred  to  pass  my  night  on  a  bench, 
to  the  unpleasantness  of  being  brought  up  before  the  officer 
on  duty,  adding,  that  it  was  only  on  the  very  moment  of 
his  coming  that  I  awoke. 

"  I  know  that,"  interrupted  he,  in  a  less  surly  voice.  "  I 
found  you  sleeping,  and  feared  to  awake  you  suddenly, 
lest  in  the  surprise  a  word  or  a  cry  would  escape  you — one 
syllable  had  cost  your  head." 

In  the  tone  of  these  last  few  words  there  was  something 
I  thought  I  could  recognize,  and  resolving  at  a  bold  ven- 


896  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS." 

ture  in  such  an  emergency  as  I  found  myself  placed,  T  said 
at  a  hazard, — 

"  The  better  fortune  mine,  that  I  fell  into  the  hands  of  a 
kind  as  well  as  a  brave  soldier — the  Corporal  Pioche." 

"  Sucristi  t  You  know  me  then  !  "  cried  he,  thunder- 
struck. 

"  To  be  sure  I  do.  Could  I  be  an  aide-de-camp  to  the 
General  d'Auvergne,  and  not  have  heard  of  Pioche  ?  " 

"  An  aide-de-camp  of  the  general,"  said  he,  starting 
back,  as  he  carried  his  hand  to  the  salute.  "  Pardon,  mon 
qfficier ;  but  you  know  that  duty " 

"  Quite  true ;  it  was  all  my  own  indiscretion.  And 
now,  Pioche,  if  you'll  keep  me  company  here  till  daybreak 
—it  cannot  be  far  off  now — the  light  will  soon  satisfy  you 
that  my  account  of  myself  is  a  true  one." 

"Willingly,  sir,"  said  the  gruff  cuirassier :  "my  patrol 
is,  to  watch  the  parterres  from  the  pavilion  to  the  allee 
yonder  ;  and,  if  you  please,  we'll  take  up  our  quarters  on 
this  bench." 

They  who  know  not  the  strange  mixture  of  deference 
and  familiarity  of  which  the  relation  between  officer  and 
soldier  is  made  up  in  the  French  service,  will  perhaps 
wonder  at  the  tone  of  almost  equality  in  which  we  now 
conversed.  But  such  is  the  case  ;  the  revolutionary  armies 
acknowledged  no  other  gradations  of  rank  than  such  as 
the  service  conferred,  nor  any  degree  of  superiority  save 
that  derivable  from  greater  ability,  or  more  daring  heroism  ; 
and  although  no  troops  more  implicitly  obeyed  the  com- 
mands of  their  officers,  the  occasion  of  discipline  over,  a 
perfect  feeling  of  equality  reigned  amongst  all,  whether 
they  wore  the  epaulettes  of  colonel  or  carried  a  musket  in 
the  ranks.  With  time,  and  the  changes  the  Consulate  had 
introduced,  much  of  this  excessive  familiarity  was  sup- 
pressed ;  still  it  was  no  uncommon  thing  to  hear  the 
humble  rank  and  file  address  the  general  of  division  as 
"  thou " — the  expression  of  closest  friendship,  probably 
dating  from  the  hours  of  schoolboy  attachment :  nor  was 
the  officer  of  rank  thought  less  of  because,  in  the  hours  of 
off-duty,  he  mixed  freely  with  those  who  had  been  his 
companions  through  life,  and  talked  with  them  as  brothers. 
It  is  probable  that  in  no  other  nation  such  a  course  could 
have  been  practised  without  a  total  subversion  of  all  respect, 


A  NIGHT   IN    THE    TUILERIES   GARDENS.  897 

and  the  ruin  of  all  habits  of  order.  The  Frenchman  is, 
however,  essentially  military  ;  not  merely  warlike,  like  the 
inhabitants  of  Great  Britain,  his  mind  ever  inclines  to  the 
details  of  war  as  an  art.  It  is  in  generalship  he  glories, 
not  the  mere  conflict  of  force ;  and  the  humblest  soldier 
in  the  army  takes  an  interest  in  the  great  game  of  tactics, 
which  in  any  other  people  would  be  quite  incredible. 
Hence  he  submits  to  the  control  which  otherwise  he  could 
not  endure  ;  for  this,  he  yields  to  command  at  the  hands  of 
one,  who,  although  his  equal  in  all  other  respects,  he  here 
acknowledges  as  his  superior.  He  knows,  too,  that  the 
grade  of  officer  is  open  to  merit  alone,  and  he  feels  that  the 
epaulette  may  be  his  own  one  day.  Such  causes  as  these, 
constantly  in  operation,  could  not  fail  to  raise  the  morale 
of  an  army  ;  nor  can  we  wonder  that  from  sn^-h  a  source 
were  derived  many,  if  not  most,  of  the  great  names  that 
formed  the  marshals  of  France. 

Again,  to  this  military  spirit  the  French  owe  the  per- 
fection of  their  tirailleur  force — the  consummate  skill 
of  independent  parties,  of  which  every  campaign  gave 
evidence.  Napoleon  found  this  spirit  in  the  nation,  and 
spared  nothing  to  give  it  its  fullest  development.  He 
quickly  saw  to  what  height  of  enthusiasm  a  people  could 
be  brought,  to  whom  a  cross  or  a  decoration,  an  epaulette 
or  a  sabre  of  honour,  were  deemed  the  ample  rewards  of 
every  daring  and  of  every  privation ;  and  never  in  any 
age,  or  in  any  country,  was  chivalry  so  universally  spread 
over  the  wide  surface  of  a  people.  With  them,  rank 
claimed  no  exception  from  fatigue  or  suffering.  The 
officer  fared  little  better  than  the  soldier  on  a  march  ;  in  a 
battle,  he  was  only  more  exposed  to  danger ;  by  daring 
only  could  he  win  his  way  upwards ;  and  an  emulative 
ardour  was  continually  maintained,  which  was  ever  giving 
to  the  world  instances  of  individual  heroism,  far  more 
brilliant  than  all  the  famed  achievements  of  the  crusaders. 

This  brief  digression,  unnecessary  perhaps  to  many  of 
my  readers,  may  serve  to  explain  to  others  how  naturally 
our  conversation  took  the  easy  tone  of  familiar  equality  ; 
nor  will  they  be  surprised  at  the  abrupt  question  of  the 
cuirassier,  as  he  said, — 

"  Mille  tonnerres  1  lieutenant,  was  it  from  your  liking 
the  post  of  danger  you  selected  that  bench  yonder  ?  " 


898  TOM   BURKE   OP    "  OURS." 

"  The  choice  was  a  mere  accident." 

"An  accident,  morbleuJ"  said  he,  with  a  low  laugh. 
44  That  was  what  Lasalle  called  it  at  the  Adige,  when  the 
wheel  came  off  the  eight-pounder  in  the  charge,  and  the 
enemy  carried  off  the  gun.  '  An  accident ! '  said  the  Petit 
Caporal  to  him — I  was  close  by  when  he  said  it — '  will  your 
friends  in  Paris  call  it  an  accident  if  the  "  ordre  du  jour" 
to-morrow  condemn  you  to  be  shot  ?  '  I  know  him  well," 
continued  Pioche,  "  that  I  do ;  I  was  second  bombardier 
with  him  at  Toulon — ay,  at  Cairo  too.  I  mind  well  the 
evening  he  came  to  our  quarters — poor  enough  we  were 
at  the  time — no  clothes,  no  rations.  I  was  cook  to  our 
division,  but  somehow  there  was  little  duty  in  my  depart- 
ment, till  one  day  the  vivandiere's  ass — a  brave  beast  he 
was  too,  before  provisions  fell  short — a  spent  shot  took 
him  in  the  flank,  and  killed  him  on  the  spot.  Sacristi  I 
what  damage  it  did ;  all  the  canteens  were  smashed  to 
atoms ;  horn  goblets  and  platters  knocked  to  pieces  ;  but 
worst  of  all,  a  keg  of  true  Nantz  was  broached,  and  every 
drop  lost.  Poor  Madame  Gougon,  she  loved  that  ass  as 
if  he  had  been  one  of  the  regiment;  and  though  we  all 
offered  her  assignats  on  our  pay,  for  a  month  each,  to  give 
us  the  carcase,  she  wouldn't  do  it.  No,  faith  !  she  would 
have  him  buried;  and  with  funeral  honours!  Parbhu! 
it  was  a  whim ;  but  the  poor  thing  was  in  grief,  and  we 
could  not  refuse  her.  I  commanded  the  party,"  continued 
Pioche,  "  and  a  long  distance  we  had  to  march,  lest  the 
shots  might  be  heard  in  the  quartier-general.  Well,  we 
had  some  trouble  in  getting  the  poor  soul  away  from  the 
grave.  Sacristi  /  she  took  it  so  much  to  heart,  I  thought 
she'd  have  masses  said  for  him ;  but  we  did  succeed  at 
last,  and  before  dawn  we  were  all  within  the  camp  as  if 
nothing  had  happened.  The  whole  of  that  day,  however, 
the  ass  was  never  out  of  our  minds.  It  was  not  grief- 
no,  no !  don't  think  that ;  we  were  all  thinking  of  what  a 
sin  it  was  to  have  him  buried  there — such  a  fine  beast  as 
he  was — and  not  a  pound  of  meat  to  be  had,  if  you  were 
to  offer  a  nine-pounder  gun  for  it.  '  He  is  never  the 
worse  for  his  funeral,'  said  I ;  '  remember,  boys,  how  well 
preserved  he  was  in  brandy  before  he  was  buried.  Let's 
nave  him  up  again  1 '  No  sooner  was  night  come,  than 
we  set  off  for  the  place  where  we  laid  him,  and  in  less 


A   NIGHT   IN    THE   TUILERIES    GARDENS.  899 

than  two  hours  I  was  busily  employed  iu  making  a 
delicious  salmi  of  his  haunch.  Mille  bombes  I  I  think  I 
have  the  smell  of  it  before  me;  it  was  gibier,  and  the 
gravy  was  like  a  ]_  .i;«e.  We  were  all  pleasantly  seated 
round  the  fire,  watching  every  turn  of  the  roast,  when, 
crack  !  I  heard  the  noise  of  the  patrol  bringing  his  gun  to 
the  present,  and  before  we  had  time  to  jump  up,  the  Petit 
Caporal  was  upon  us — he  was  mounted  on  a  little  dark 
Arab,  and  dressed  in  his  grey  surtoiit. 

"  '  What's  all  this  here  ?  '  cried  he,  pulling  up  short, 
while  the  barb  sniffed  the  air,  just  as  if  he  guessed  what 
the  meat  was.  '  Who  has  stolen  this  sheep  ?  ' 

"  '  It  is  not  a  sheep,  general,'  said  I,  stepping  forward, 
and  trying  to  hide  the  long  ladle  I  was  basting  with. 

" '  Not  a  sheep — then  it  is  an  ox,  mayhap,  or  a  calf,' 
said  he  again,  with  an  angry  look. 

" '  Neither,  general,'  said  I ;  '  it  was  a — a — a  beast  of 
our  division.' 

"  '  A  beast  of  your  division !  What  does  that  mean  ? 
No  trifling,  mind !  Out  with  it  at  once.  What's  this  ? 
Where  did  it  come  from  ?  ' 

"  '  An  ass,  may  it  please  you,  sir,'  said  I,  trembling  all 
over,  for  I  saw  he  was  in  a  rare  passion ;  and  as  he 
repeated  the  word  after  me,  I  told  him  the  whole  story, 
and  how  we  could  not  sutler  such  capital  prog  to  be  eaten 
by  any  other  than  good  citizens  of  the  Republic. 

"  While  I  was  telling  him  so  much,  the  rest  stood  round 
terrified  ;  they  could  not  even  turn  the  joint,  though  it 
was  burning,  and,  to  say  truth,  I  thought  myself  we  were 
all  in  a  bad  way,  when  suddenly  he  burst  into  a  fit  of 
laughing,  and  said, — 

"  '  What  part  of  France  do  these  fellows  come  from  ?  ' 

"'Alsace,  mon  gtndralS  was  the  answer  from  every- 
one. 

" '  I  thought  so,  I  thought  so,'  said  he.  '  Sybarites — 
all.' 

"'No,  mon  general — grenadiers  of  the  Fourth — 
Milhaud's  brigade,'  said  I ;  and  with  that  he  turned  away, 
and  we  could  hear  him  laughing  long  after  he  galloped 
off.  I  saw  he  mistook  us,"  said  Pioche,  "and  that  he 
could  not  be  angry  with  the  old  Fourth." 

"  You  must  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  hardship,  Pioche  ? ' 


400  TOM   BURKE  OF   "  OURS." 

said  I,  as  he  came  to  a  pause  ;  and  wishing  to  draw  him 
on  to  speak  more  of  his  campaigns. 

"  Ma  foi,  there  were  few  who  saw  service  from  '92  to 
'97  had  not  their  share  of  it ;  but  they  were  brave  times, 
too ;  every  battle  had  its  day  of  promotion  afterwards. 
Le  Petit  Caporal  would  ride  down  the  ranks  with  his  staff, 
looking  for  this  one,  and  asking  for  that.  '  Where's  the 
adjutant  of  the  Sixth ?'  'Dead,  mon  general.'  'Where's 
the  colonel  of  the  Voltigeurs  ? '  '  Badly  wounded.' 
*  Carry  him  this  sabre  of  honour.'  *  Who  fell  over  the 
Austrian  standard,  and  carried  away  the  fragment  of  the 
drapeau  ?  '  '  One  of  my  fellows,  general ;  here  he  is.' 
'  And  what  is  your  name,  my  brave  fellow  ?  '  " 

The  corporal  paused  here,  and  drew  a  deep  breath  ;  and 
after  a  few  seconds'  pause,  added  in  altered  tone,  "Sacristif 
they  were  fine  times  !  " 

"  But  what  did  he  say  to  the  soldier  that  took  the 
colours  ?  "  asked  I,  impatiently.  "  Who  was  he  ?  " 

"  It  was  I,"  replied  Pioche  himself,  in  a  deep  voice, 
where  pride  and  devotion  struggled  powerfully  together. 

"  You,  Pioche — indeed  !  Well,  what  said  the  general 
when  he  saw  you  ?  " 

44 '  Ah,  Pioche,'  said  he,  gaily,  '  my  old  friend  of 
Toulouse.' 

"  '  Yes,  general,'  said  I,  '  we've  had  some  warm  work 
together.' 

"  *  True,  Pioche,  and  may  again  perhaps ;  but  you've 
been  made  a  corporal  since  that  j  what  am  I  to  do  for  you 
now  ?  " 

"  This  was  a  puzzling  question,  and  I  did  not  know  how 
to  answer  it,  and  he  repeated  it  before  I  could  make  up 
my  mind. 

'* '  Is  there  nothing,  then,  in  which  I  can  be  of  use  to 
Corporal  Pioche  ?  " 

"  '  Yes,  faon  general,'  said  I,  '  there  is.' 

" '  Speak  it  out,  man,  then  ;  what  is  it  ?  ' 

"'I  wish,  then,  you'd  rate  the  commissary-general  of 
our  division  for  one  blunder  he's  ever  making.  The 
powder  they  serve  us  out  is  always  wet,  and  our  bread  is 
as  hard  as  mitraille.  Neither  bayonets  nor  teeth  will  last 
for  ever,  you  know,  general.'  And  he  burst  out  a-laugh- 
ing  before  I  finished." 


A   NIGHT   IN    THE    TUILERIES    GABDENS.  401 

44  *  Rest  assured,  Pioche,  I'll  look  to  this,'  said  he ;  and 
he  kept  his  word." 

"But  why  didn't  you  ask  for  promotion?"  said  I; 
"  what  folly,  was  it  not,  to  throw  away  such  a  chance  ? 
You  might  have  been  an  officer  ere  this." 

"  No,"  replied  he,  with  a  sorrowful  shake  of  the  head 
"  that  was  impossible." 

"  But  why  so  ?  Bonaparte  knew  you  well ;  he  often 
noticed  you." 

"True — all  true,"  said  he,  more  sadly  than  before; 
"but  then " 

"  What,  then  ?  "  asked  I,  with  more  of  interest  than 
delicacy  at  the  moment. 

"  I  never  learned  to  read,"  said  Pioche,  in  a  low  voice, 
which  trembled  with  agitation,  while  he  drew  his  swarthy 
hand  across  his  eyes,  and  was  silent. 

The  few  words  so  spoken  thrilled  most  powerfully 
within  me.  I  saw  that  I  had  awakened  the  saddest 
thoughts  of  the  poor  fellow's  heart,  and  would  h^ve  given 
worlds  to  be  able  to  recall  my  question.  Here,  then,  was 
the  corroding  sorrow  of  his  life — the  grief  that  left  its 
impress  on  his  stern  features,  and  tinged  with  care  the 
open  brow  of  the  brave  soldier.  Each  moment  our  silence 
was  prolonged  made  it  still  more  poignant,  but  I  made  an 
eii'ort  to  break  it,  and  happily  with  success. 

"  After  all,  Pioche,"  said  I,  laying  my  hand  on  his  arm, 
"  I  would  willingly  exchange  my  epaulettes  for  these 
stripes  on  your  sleeve,  to  have  had  Bonaparte  speak  to 
me  as  he  has  spoken  to  you ;  that  was  a  prouder  dis- 
tinction than  any  other,  and  will  be  a  fonder  recollection, 
too,  hereafter." 

"Do  you  think  so,  mon  lieutenant?'1  said  the  poor 
fellow,  turning  round  quickly,  as  a  faint  smile  played 
about  his  features.  "Do  you  think  so?  Sacristi I  I  have 
«aid  as  much  to  myself  sometimes,  when  I've  been  alone; 
and  then  I've  almost  thought  I  could  hear  his  kind,  soft 
voice  ringing  in  my  ears — for  it  is  kind  and  soft  as  a 
woman's,  when  he  pleases,  though,  parbleu  /  it  can  call 
like  a  trumpet  at  other  times,  ay,  and  tingle  within  your 
heart,  till  it  sets  your  blood  boiling,  and  makes  your  hand* 
twitch.  I  mind  well  the  campaign  in  the  Valais — the 
words  keep  dinning  in  my  ears  to  this  hour." 

\ 


402  TOM   BURKE   OF   "  ODKS." 

"  What  was  that,  Pioche  ?"  said  I,  pleased  to  see  liim 
turn  from  the  remembrance  of  his  own  regrets. 

*'  It  is  a  good  while  past  now — I  forget  the  year  exactly 
— but  we  were  marching  on  Italy,  and  it  was  in  spring  ; 
still,  the  ground  was  covered  with  snow ;  every  night  came 
on  with  a  hailstorm  that  lasted  till  nigh  daybreak ;  and 
when  we  arose  from  the  bivouac,  we  were  so  stiff  and 
frozen  we  could  not  move.  They  said,  at  the  time,  some- 
thing went  wrong  with  the  commissariat — but  when  did  it 
ever  go  right,  I  wonder?  Ammunition  and  provisions 
were  always  late ;  and  though  the  general  used  to  drive 
away  a  commissary  every  week  or  ten  days  for  misconduct, 
the  new  ones  that  came  turned  out  just  as  bad.  The 
Petit  Caporal  kept  sending  them  word  to  Paris  not  to  send 
down  any  more  '  savants,1  bat  a  good,  honest  man,  with 
common  sense  and  active  habits  ;  but,  parbleu  /  birds  of 
that  feather  must  have  been  rare  just  then,  for  we  never 
could  catch  one  of  them.  Whatever  was  the  cause,  we 
never  were  so  ill  off:  our  chakos  were  like  wet  paper,  and 
took  any  shape  ;  and  out  of  ridicule  we  used  to  come  upon 
parade  with  them  fashioned  into  three-cocked  hats,  and 
pointed  caps,  and  slouched  beavers.  The  officers  couldn't 
say  a  word,  you  know,  all  this  time.  It  was  not  our  fault 
if  we  were  in  such  misery.  Then,  as  to  shoes — a  few 
could  boast  of  the  upper- leathers,  but  a  sole  or  a  heel  was 
not  to  be  found  in  a  company.  Our  coats  were  actually  in 
rags,  and  a  pivot  sentry  looked,  for  all  the  world,  like  a 
flagstaff,  as  he  stood  fluttering  in  the  wind. 

"  We  bore  up,  however,  as  well  as  we  could  for  some 
time,  grumbling  occasionally  over  our  condition,  and 
aometimes  laughing  at  it,  when  we  had  the  heart ;  till  at 
last,  when  we  saw  the  new  convoy  arrive,  and  all  the  bis- 
cuits distributed  among  the  young  regiments  and  the  new 
conscripts,  we  could  endure  it  no  longer,  and  a  terrible 
outcry  arose  among  the  troops.  We  were  all  drawn  up 
on  parade — it  was  an  inspection  ;  lor,  parbleu  /  though 
we  were  as  ragged  as  scarecrows,  they  would  have  us  out 
twice  a  week  to  review  us,  and  put  us  through  the 
manoeuvres.  Scarcely  had  the  general — it  was  Bonaparte 
himself — got  half-way  down  the  line,  when  a  shout  ran 
from  rank  to  rank — '  Bread  !  shoes  !  caps  !  biscuits  ! ' 

"  '  What  do  I  hear  't '  said  Bonaparte,  standing  up  in  his 


1   NIGHT    IN    THE    TUILERIES    GARDENS.  408 

stirrups,  and  frowning  at  the  line.  '  Who  are  the  mal- 
contents that  dare  to  cry  out  on  parade  ?  Let  them  stand 
out.  Let  me  see  them.' 

"  And  at  once  more  than  half  the  regiment  of  grena- 
diers sprang  forward,  and  shouted  louder  than  before, 
'  Bread  !  bread  !  Let  us  have  food  and  clothing !  If  we 
are  to  fight,  let  us  not  die  of  hunger ! ' 

" '  Grenadiers  of  the  Fourth,'  cried  he,  in  a  terrible 
voice,  *  to  your  ranks.  Second  division,  and  third  ! ' 
shouted  he,  with  his  hand  up,  '  form  in  square —carry 
arms! — present  arms  ! — front  rank,  kneel! — kneel!'  said 
he,  again,  louder  ;  for  you  know  we  never  did  that  in  those 
days.  However,  every  word  was  obeyed,  and  down  dropped 
the  leading  files  on  their  knees,  and  there  we  were  rooted 
to  the  ground.  Not  a  man  spoke — all  silent  as  death. 

"  He  then  advanced  to  the  front  of  the  staff,  and  point- 
ing his  hand  to  a  convoy  of  waggons  that  could  just  be 
seen  turning  the  angle  of  the  road,  with  white  flags  flying, 
to  show  what  they  were,  called  out — 'Commissary-general, 
distribute  full  rations  and  half  ammunition  to  the  young 
regiments — half  rations  and  full  ammunition  to  the  vete- 
rans of  Egypt ! '  A  shout  of  applause  burst  out,  but  he 
cried  louder  than  before — '  Silence  in  the  ranks ! '  Then, 
taking  off  his  chapeau,  he  stood  bare-headed  before  us ; 
and,  in  a  voice  like  the  bugle  that  blows  the  charge,  he 
read  from  a  large  paper  in  his  hand — '  In  the  name  of  tho 
French  Republic — one  and  indivisible.  The  Directory  of 
the  nation  decrees — that  the  thanks  of  the  Government  be 
given  to  the  Grenadiers  of  the  Fourth,  who  have  deserved 
well  of  their  country.  Vive  la  Republique  /' 

"  '  Vive  la  Sepublique  ! '  shouted  the  whole  square  in 
a  roar,  like  the  sea  itself.  Who  thought  more  of  hard- 
ships or  hunger  then  ?  Our  only  desire  was,  when  we  were 
to  meet  the  enemy  ;  and  many  a  jest  and  many  a  laugh  went 
round,  as  we  loaded  our  pouches  with  the  new  ammunition, 

"'Who's  that  fellow  yonder?'  said  Bonaparte,  as  he 
rode  slowly  down  the  line.  '  I  should  know  him,  I  think. 
Isn't  that  Pioche  ?  ' 

"  *  Yes,  mon  general,'  said  I,  saluting  him.  '  It  is  what 
remains  of  poor  Pioche;  parbleu!  very  little  more  than 
half,  though.' 

1  Ah !  glutton,'  said  he,  laughing,  '  I  ought  to  have 


M  ( 


404  TOM   BURKE   OF    "  OUBS/* 

guesged  you  were  here  ;  one  such  gourmand  is  enough  to 
corrupt  a  whole  brigade.' 

u '  Pioche  is  a  good  soldier,  citizen-general,'  said  my 
captain,  who  was  an  old  schoolfellow  of  mine. 

"  '  I  know  it,  captain,'  said  the  general. 

"  *  You  were  in  Bxcelmans's  dragoons,  Pioche,  if  I 
mistake  not  ? ' 

"  *  Two  years  and  ten  months,  citizen-general,' 

" '  Why  did  you  leave  them,  and  when  ? ' 

"  '  At  Monte  Bello,  with  the  colonel's  permission.' 

"'And  the  reason?' 

"*  Morbleul  it  was  a  fancy  I  had.  They  killed  two 
horses  under  me  that  day,  and  I  saw  I  was  not  destined 
for  the  cavalry.' 

"  '  Ha,  ha ! '  said  he,  with  a  sly  laugh  ;  '  had  they  been 
asses,  the  thing  might  have  been  different — eh  ? ' 

"  '  Yes,  mon  general,'  said  I,  growing  red ;  for  I  knew 
what  he  meant. 

"  '  Come,  Pioche,  you  must  go  back  again  to  your  old 
corps ;  they  want  one  or  two  like  you — though,  parlleu  I 
you'll  ruin  the  Republic  in  remounts.' 

"  'As  you  please  it,  general.' 

" '  Well,  what  shall  I  do  for  you  besides  ?  Any  more 
commissaries  to  row — eh  ?  Methinks  no  bad  time  to 
gratify  you  in  that  way.' 

"  '  Ah,  mon  general  1  if  you  would  only  hang  up  one 
now  and  then.' 

"  '  So  I  intend,  the  next  time  I  hear  of  any  of  my 
soldiers  being  obliged  to  eat  the  asses  of  the  vivandieres.' 
And  with  that  he  rode  on,  laughing,  though  none,  save 
myself,  knew  what  he  alluded  to ;  and,  ma  foi,  I  was  not 
disposed  to  turn  the  laugh  against  myself  by  telling.  But 
there  goes  the  reveil,  and  I  must  leave  you,  mon  lieutenant ; 
the  gates  will  be  open  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  Good-bye,  Pioche,"  said  I,  "  and  many  thanks  for  your 
peasant  company.  I  hope  we  shall  meet  again,  and  soon." 

"  I  hope  so,  mon  lieutenant ;  and  if  it  be  at  a  bivouac 
fire,  all  the  better." 

The  gallant  corporal  made  his  military  salute,  wheeled 
about,  stiff  as  if  on  parade,  and  departed ;  while  I,  throw- 
ing my  cloak  over  my  arm,  turned  into  the  broad  alley 
and  left  the  garden. 


405 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

A  STOKY   OF   THE   YEAR    '92. 

I  FOUND  everything  in  the  Rue  de  Rohan  as  1  had  left  it 
the  day  before.  General  d'Auvergne  had  not  been  there 
during  my  absence,  but  a  messenger  from  Versailles 
brought  intelligence  that  the  Court  would  arrive  that 
evening  in  Paris,  and  in  all  likelihood  the  general  would 
accompany  them. 

My  day  was  then  at  my  disposal,  and  having  dressed,  I 
strolled  out  to  enjoy  all  the  strange  and  novel  sights  of 
the  great  capital.  They  who  can  carry  their  memories 
back  to  Paris  at  that  period,  may  remember  the  prodi- 
gious amount  of  luxury  and  wealth  so  prodigally  exhi- 
bited— the  equipages,  the  liveries,  the  taste  in  dress,  were 
all  of  the  most  costly  character — the  very  shops,  too,  vied 
with  each  other  in  the  splendour  and  richness  of  their 
display,  and  court  uniforms  and  ornaments  of  jewellery 
glittered  in  every  window.  Hussar  jackets  in  all  their 
bravery — chapeaux  covered  with  feather  ti'irnming  and 
looped  with  diamonds — sabres  with  ivory  scabbards 
encrusted  with  topaz  and  turquoise,  replaced  the  simple 
costumes  of  the  revolutionary  era,  as  rapidly  as  did  the 
high-sounding  titles  of  "  Excellence  "  and  "  Monseigneur  " 
the  unpretending  designation  of  "citoyen."  Still,  the 
military  feature  of  the  land  was  in  the  ascendant;  in 
the  phrase  of  the  day,  it  was  the  "moustache"  that 
governed.  Not  a  street  but  had  its  group  of  officers,  on 
horseback  or  on  foot — regiments  passed  on  duty,  or 
arrived  from  the  march  at  every  turn  of  the  way.  The 
very  rabble  kept  time  and  step  as  they  followed,  and  the 
warlike  spirit  animated  every  class  of  the  population. 
All  these  things  ministered  to  my  enthusiasm,  and  set  my 
heart  beating  stronger  for  the  time  when  the  career  of 
arms  was  to  open  before  me.  This,  if  I  were  to  jud^e 

Vol.  28— (14) 


406  TOM   BURKE    OP   "  OURS.'* 

from  all  I  saw,  could  not  now  be  far  distant.  The  country 
for  miles  around  Paris  was  covered  with  marching  men, 
their  faces  all  turned  eastward — orderlies,  booted  and 
splashed,  trotted  rapidly  from  street  to  street,  and  general 
officers,  with  their  aides-de-camp,  rode  up  and  down  with 
a  haste  that  boded  preparation. 

My  mind  was  too  full  of  its  own  absorbing  interests  to 
make  me  care  to  visit  the  theatre,  and  having  dined  in  a 
cafe  on  the  Boulevard,  I  turned  towards  the  general's 
quarters,  in  the  hope  of  finding  him  arrived.  As  I  entered 
the  Rue  de  Rohan,  I  was  surprised  at  a  crowd  collected 
about  the  door,  watching  the  details  of  packing  a  travelling 
carriage  which  stood  before  it.  A  heavy  fourgon,  loaded 
with  military  chests  and  boxes,  seemed  also  to  attract 
their  attention,  and  call  forth  many  a  surmise  as  to  its 
destination. 

"  Le  Petit  Caporal  has  something  in  his  head,  depend 
upon  it,"  said  a  thin,  dark-whiskered  fellow  with  a  wooden 
leg,  whose  air  and  gesture  bespoke  the  old  soldier  ;  *'  the 
staff  never  move  off,  extra  post,  without  a  good  reason 
for  it." 

"  It  is  the  English  are  about  to  catch  it  this  time,"  said 
a  miserable-looking,  decrepit  creature,  who  was  occupied 
in  roasting  chestnuts  over  an  open  stove.  "  Hot,  all  hot ! 
messieurs  et  mesdames !  real  '  marrons  de  Nancy ' — the 
true  and  only  veritable  chestnuts  with  a  truffle  flavour. 
Sacristi  !  now  the  sea- wolves  will  meet  their  match.  It 
is  such  brave  fellows  as  you,  monsieur  le  grenadier,  can 
make  them  tremble." 

The  old  pensioner  smoothed  down  his  moustache,  and 
made  no  reply. 

"  The  English,  indeed !  "  said  a  fat,  ruddy-faced  woman, 
with  a  slight  line  of  dark  beard  on  her  upper  lip ;  "  mj> 
husband's  a  pioneer  in  the  Twenty-second,  and  says  they're 
nothing  better  than  poltroons.  How  we  made  them  run 
at  Arcole !  Wasn't  it  Arcole  ?  "  said  she,  as  a  buzz  of 
laughter  ran  through  the  crowd. 

"  Tonnerre  de  guerre"  cried  the  little  man,  "  if  I  was 
at  them  !  "  A  loud  burst  of  merriment  met  this  warlike 
speech,  while  the  maimed  soldier,  apparently  pleased  with 
the  creature's  courage,  smiled  blandly  on  him  as  he  said, 
"  Let  me  have  two  sous'  worth  of  your  chestnuts." 


A   STOEY   OF   THE    YEAR    '92.  407 

Leaving  the  party  to  their  discussion,  I  now  entered  the 
house,  and  edging  my  way  upstairs  between  trunks  ancf 
packing-cases,  arrived  at  the  drawing-room.  The  genera] 
had  just  come  in  ;  he  had  been  the  whole  morning  a) 
Court,  and  was  eating  a  hurried  dinner  in  order  to  return 
to  the  Tuileries  for  the  evening  reception.  Although  liig 
manner  towards  me  was  kind  and  cordial  in  the  extreme, 
I  thought  he  looked  agitated  and  even  depressed,  and 
seemed  much  older  and  more  broken  than  before. 

"  You  see,  Burke,  you'll  have  little  time  to  enjoy  Paris 
gaieties — we  leave  to-morrow." 

"  Indeed,  sir ! — so  soon  ?  " 

"  Tes,  Lasalle  is  off  already ;  Dorsenne  starts  in  tw( 
hours ;  and  we  three  rendezvous  at  Coblentz.  I  wished 
much  to  see  you,"  continued  he,  after  a  minute's  pauso 
"  but  I  could  not  get  away  from  Versailles  even  for  a  day, 
Tell  me,  have  you  got  a  letter  I  wrote  to  you  when  at 
Mayence  ?  I  mean,  is  it  still  in  existence  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  I,  somewhat  astonished  at  the  ques- 
tion. 

"  I  wrote  it  hurriedly,"  added  he,  with  something  of 
confusion  in  his  manner ;  "  do  let  me  see  it." 

I  unlocked  my  writing-desk  at  once,  and  handed  him  his 
own  letter.  He  opened  it  hastily,  and  having  thrown  his 
eyes  speedily  across  it,  said,  and  in  a  voice  far  more  at 
ease  than  before, — 

"  That  will   do.     I  feared  lest  perhaps But  rio 

matter — this  is  better  than  I  thought." 

With  this  he  gave  the  letter  back  into  my  hands,  and 
appeared  for  some  moments  engaged  in  deep  thought; 
then,  with  a  voice  and  manner  which  showed  a  different 
channel  was  given  to  his  thoughts,  he  said,- — 

"  The  game  has  opened — the  Austrians  have  invaded 
Bavaria.  The  whole  disposable  force  of  France  is  on  the 
march — a  hurried  movement — but  so  it  is.  Napoleon 
always  strikes  like  his  own  emblem,  the  eagle." 

"  True,  sir ;  but  even  that  serves  to  heighten  the  chival- 
rous feeling  of  the  soldier,  when  the  sword  springs  from 
the  scabbard  at  the  call  of  honour,  and  is  not  drawn  slowly 
forth  at  the  whispered  counsel  of  some  wily  diplomat." 

He  smiled  half-mournfully  at  the  remark,  or  at  my 
impetuosity  in  making  it,  as  he  said, — 


408  TOM  BU11KE   OF   "  OUBS." 

"  My  dear  boy,  never  flatter  yourself  that  the  cause  of 
any  war  can  enter  into  the  calculation  of  the  soldier.  The 
liberty  he  fights  for  is  often  the  rankest  tyranny ;  the 
patriotism  he  defends  the  veriest  oppression.  Play  the 
game  as  though  the  stake  were  but  your  own  ambition,  if 
you  would  play  it  manfully.  As  for  me,  I  buckle  on  the 
harness  for  the  last  time,  come  what  will  of  it.  The 
Emperor  feels,  and  justly  feels,  indignant  that  many  of 
the  older  officers  have  declined  the  service  by  which  alone 
they  were  elevated  to  rank,  and  wealth,  and  honour.  It 
was  not,  then,  at  the  moment  when  he  distinguished  me 
by  an  unsought  promotion,  still  more,  conferred  a  per- 
sonal favour  on  me,  that  I  could  ask  leave  to  retire  from 
the  army." 

By  the  tone  in  which  he  said  these  last  few  words,  I 
saw  that  the  general  was  now  approaching  the  topic  I  felt 
so  curious  about,  and  did  not  venture  by  a  word  to  in- 
terrupt or  divert  his  thoughts  from  it.  My  calculation 
proved  correct ;  for,  after  meditating  some  eight  or  ten 
minutes,  he  drew  his  chair  closer  to  mine,  and  in  a  voice 
of  ill-repressed  agitation,  spoke  thus, — 

"  You,  doubtless,  know  the  history  of  our  great  revolu- 
tion, the  causes  that  led  to,  the  consequences  that  imme- 
diately sprang  from  it — the  terrible  anarchy,  the  utter 
confiscation  of  wealth,  and,  worse  still,  the  social  disor- 
ganization that  invaded  every  family,  however  humble, 
or  however  exalted,  setting  wives  against  their  husbands, 
children  against  their  parents,  and  making  brothers  sworn 
enemies  to  each  other.  It  was  in  vain  for  any  man  once 
engaged  in  the  struggle  to  draw  back  ;  the  least  hesitation 
to  perform  any  order  of  the  Convention — the  delay  of  a 
moment,  to  think — was  death ;  some  one  was  ever  on  the 
watch  to  denounce  the  man  thus  deliberating,  and  he  waa 
led  forth  to  the  guillotine  like  the  blackest  criminal.  The 
immediate  result  of  all  this  was  a  distrust  that  pervaded 
the  entire  nation.  No  one  knew  who  to  speak  to,  nor 
dare  any  confide  in  him  who  once  had  been  his  dearest 
friend.  The  old  Royalists  trembled  at  every  stir;  the  few 
demonstrations  they  forced  themselves  to  make  of  con- 
currence in  the  new  state  of  things,  were  received  with 
suspicion  and  jealousy.  The  '  Blues,'  for  so  the  revolu- 
tionary party  was  called,  thirsted  for  their  blood;  the 


A   STOBY   OF   THE    YEAR    '92.  409 

aristocracy  had  been,  as  they  deemed,  long  their  oppress- 
ors ;  and  where  vengeance  ceased,  cupidity  began.  They 
longed  to  seize  upon  the  confiscated  estates,  and  revel  as 
masters  in  the  halls  where  so  oft  they  had  waited  as 
lacqueys.  But  the  evil  ended  not  here :  wherever  private 
hate  or  secret  malice  lurked,  an  opportunity  for  revenge 
now  offered,  and  for  one  head  that  fell  under  the  supposed 
guilt  of  treason  to  France,  a  hundred  dropped  beneath 
the  axe  from  causes  of  personal  animosity  and  long- 
nurtured  vengeance  ;  and  thus  many  an  idle  word  uttered 
in  haste  or  carelessness,  some  passing  slight,  some  chance 
neglect,  met  now  its  retribution,  and  that  retribution  was 
ever  death. 

"  It  chanced  that  in  the  south,  in  one  of  those  remote 
districts  where  intelligence  is  always  slow  in  arriving,  and 
where  political  movements  rarely  disturb  the  quiet  current 
of  daily  life,  there  lived  one  of  those  old  seigneurs  who, 
at  that  period,  were  deemed  sovereign  princes  in  the  little 
locale  they  inhabited.  -  The  soil  had  been  their  own  for 
centuries,  long  custom  had  made  them  respected  and 
looked  up  to,  while  the  acts  of  kindness  and  benevolence 
in  which,  from  father  to  son,  their  education  consisted, 
formed  even  a  stronger  tie  to  the  affections  of  the  peasantry. 
The  Church,  too,  contributed  not  a  little  to  the  main- 
tenance of  this  feudalism,  and  the  '  chateau '  entered  into 
the  subject  of  the  village  prayers  as  naturally  as  though  a 
very  principle  of  their  faith.  There  was  something  beau- 
tifully touching  in  the  intercourse  between  the  lord  of  the 
soil  and  its  tillers — in  the  kindly  interest  of  the  one,  re- 
paid in  reverence  and  devotion  by  the  others ;  his  fore- 
sight for  their  benefit,  their  attachment  and  fidelity,  the 
paternal  care,  the  filial  love,  made  a  picture  of  rural  hap- 
piness such  as  no  land  ever  equalled,  such  as  perhaps 
none  will  ever  see  again.  The  seigneur  of  whom  I  speak 
was  a  true  type  of  this  class ;  he  had  been,  in  his  boyhood, 
a  page  at  the  gorgeous  Court  of  Louis  XV.,  mixed  in  the 
voluptuous  fascinations  of  the  period,  but,  early  disgusted 
by  the  sensuality  of  the  day,  retired  to  his  distant  chateau, 
bringing  with  him  a  wife,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
accompfished  persons  of  the  Court,  but  one  who,  like  him- 
self, preferred  the  peace  and  tranquillity  of  a  country  life 
to  the  whirlwind  pleasures  of  a  vicious  capital.  For  yeara 


410  TOM   BURKE   OF    "  OURS.'* 

they  lived  childless;  but  at  last,  after  a  long  lapse  of  time, 
two  children  were  born  to  this  union,  a  boy  and  girl,  both 
lovely,  and  likely  in  every  respect  to  bless  them  with 
happiness.  Shortly  after  the  birth  of  the  girl,  the  mother 
became  delicate,  and  after  some  months  of  suffering,  died. 
The  father,  who  never  rallied  from  the  hour  of  her  death, 
and  took  little  interest  in  the  world,  soon  followed  her, 
and  the  children  were  left  orphans  when  the  eldest  was 
but  four  years  of  age,  and  his  sister  but  three.  Before  the 
count  died,  he  sent  for  his  steward ; — you  know  that  the 
steward,  or  intendant,  in  France,  was  formerly  the  person 
of  greatest  trust  in  any  family,  the  faithful  adviser  in  times 
of  difficulty,  the  depositary  of  secrets,  the  friend,  in  a 
word,  who  in  humble  guise  offered  his  counsel  in  every 
domestic  arrangement,  and  without  whom  no  project  was 
entertained  or  determined  on ;  and  usually  the  office  was 
hereditary,  descending  from  father  to  son  for  centuries. 

"  In  this  family  such  was  the  case ;  his  father  and  grand- 
father before  him  had  filled  the  office,  and  Leon  Guichard 
Well  knew  every  tradition  of  the  house,  and  from  his  in- 
fancy his  mind  had  been  stored  with  tales  of  its  ancient 
wealth  and  former  greatness.  His  father  had  died  but  a 
short  time  previous,  and  when  the  Count's  last  illness 
seized  him,  Leon  was  only  in  the  second  year  of  his 
stewardship.  Brief  as  the  period  was,  however,  it  had 
sufficed  to  give  abundant  proof  of  his  zeal  and  ability. 
New  sources  of  wealth  grew  up  under  his  judicious  man- 
agement—  improvements  were  everywhere  conspicuous ; 
and  while  the  seigneur  himself  found  his  income  increased 
by  nearly  one-half,  the  tenants  had  gained  in  equal  pro- 
portion ;  such  was  the  result  of  his  activity  and  intelligence. 
These  changes,  marvellous  as  they  may  seem,  were  then 
of  frequent  occurrence — the  lands  of  the  south  had  been 
tilled  for  centuries  without  any  effort  at  improvement — 
sons  were  content  to  go  on  as  their  fathers  had  done  before 
them — increased  civilization,  with  its  new  train  of  wants, 
and  luxuries,  never  invaded  this  remote,  untravelled  dis- 
trict, and  primitive  tastes  and  simple  habits  succeeded 
each  other  generation  after  generation  unaltered  an«J 
unchanged.  Suddenly,  however,  a  new  light  broke  on  thj 
the  world,  which  penetrated  even  the  darkness  of  the  fan 
off  valleys  of  La  Provence.  Intelligence  began  to  be  f*~1 


A   STOKY   OF   THE    YEAR   '92.  411 

widely  diffused — men  read  and  inflected — the  rudiments  of 
every  art  and  every  science  were  put  within  the  reach  of 
humble  comprehensions  ;  and  they  who  before  were  limited 
to  memory  or  hearsay  for  such  knowledge  as  they  pos- 
sessed, could  now  apply  at  the  fountain  for  themselves. 
Leon  Guichard  was  not  slow  in  cultivating  these  new 
resources,  and  applying  them  to  the  circumstances  about 
him ;  and  although  many  an  obstacle  arose,  dictated  by 
.  tupid  adherence  to  old  customs,  or  fast-rooted  prejudice 
against  new-iashioned  methods,  by  perseverance  he  over- 
came them  all,  and  actually  enriched  the  people  in  spite  of 
themselves. 

"  The  seigneur,  himself  a  man  of  no  mean  intellect,  saw 
much  of  this  with  sorrow — he  felt  that  a  mighty  change 
was  accomplishing,  and  that  as  one  by  one  the  ancient 
hmdmarks  by  which  men  had  been  guided  for  ages  were 
removed,  none  could  foresee  what  results  might  follow,  nor 
w  here  the  passion  for  alteration  might  cease.  The  super- 
stitions of  the  Church,  harmless  in  themselves,  were  now 
openly  attacked ;  its  observances,  before  so  deeply  vene- 
rated, were  even  assailed  as  idle  ceremonies,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  the  strong  cable  that  bound  men  to  faith  and  loyalty 
had  parted,  and  that  their  minds  were  drifting  over  a 
broad  and  pathless  sea.  Such  was  the  ominous  opening 
or  the  revolution,  such  the  terrible  ground-swell  before 
Cue  storm. 

"  On  his  death-bed,  then,  he  entreated  Leon  to  be  aware 
that  evil  days  were  approaching — that  the  time  was  not 
distant  when  men  should  rely  upon  the  affection  and  love 
of  those  around  them,  on  the  ties  that  attached  to  each 
other  for  years  long,  on  the  mutual  interest  that  had  grown 
up  from  their  cradles — he  besought  him  to  turn  the 
people's  minds,  as  far  as  might  be,  from  the  specious 
theories  that  were  afloat,  and  fix  them  on  their  once-loved 
traditions — and,  above  all,  he  charged  him,  as  the  guar- 
dian of  his  orphan  children,  to  keep  them  aloof  from  the 
contamination  of  dangerous  doctrines,  and  to  train  them 
up  in  the  ancient  virtues  of  their  house,  in  charity  and 
benevolence. 

"  Scarce  had  the  old  count's  grave  closed  over  him, 
when  men  began  to  perceive  a  marked  change  in  Leon 
Guiclxard ;  no  longer  humble,  even  to  subserviency,  aft 


412  TOM   BUBKE   OP   "  OUBS." 

before,  he  now  assumed  an  air  of  pride  and  haughtiness 
foat  soon  estranged  his  companions  from  him.  As  guar- 
dian to  the  orphan  children,  he  resided  in  the  chateau,  and 
took  on  him  the  pretensions  of  the  master.  Its  stately 
equipage,  with  great  emblazoned  panels,  the  village  won- 
der at  every  fete-day,  was  now  replaced  by  a  more  modern 
vehicle,  newly  arrived  from  Paris,  in  which  Monsieur 
Guichard  daily  took  his  airings.  The  old  servants,  many 
of  them  born  in  the  chateau,  were  sent  adrift,  and  a  new 
and  very  different  class  succeeded  them ;  all  was  changed; 
even  the  little  path  that  led  up  from  the  presbytere  to  the 
chateau,  and  along  which  the  old  cure  was  seen  wending 
his  way  on  each  Sunday  to  his  dinner  with  the  seigneur, 
was  now  closed — the  gate  walled  up — while  the  Sabbath 
itself  was  only  dedicated  to  greater  festivities  and  excess, 
to  the  scandal  of  the  villagers. 

"Meanwhile,  the  children  grew  up  in  strength  and 
beauty  ;  like  wild  flowers,  they  had  no  nurture,  but  they 
flourished  in  all  this  neglect,  ignorant  and  unconscious  of 
the  scenes  around  them.  They  roved  about  the  livelong 
day  through  the  meadows,  or  that  wilderness  of  a  garden, 
on  which  no  longer  any  care  was  bestowed,  and  where 
rank  luxuriance  gave  a  beauty  of  its  own  to  the  rich 
vegetation.  With  the  unsuspecting  freshness  of  their 
youth,  they  enjoyed  the  present  without  a  thought  of  the 
future  —  they  loved  each  other,  and  were  happy.  To 
them  the  vague  reports  and  swelling  waves  of  the  revolu- 
tion, which  each  day  gained  ground,  brought  neither  fear 
nor  apprehension  ;  they  little  dreamed  that  the  violence  of 
political  strife  could  ever  reach  their  quiet  valleys :  nor 
did  they  think  the  hour  was  near  when  the  tramp  of 
soldiery,  and  the  ruffianly  shout  of  predatory  war,  were  to 
replace  the  song  of  the  vigneron  and  the  dance  of  the 
villager.  The  revolution  came  at  last,  sweeping  like  a 
torrent  over  the  land ;  it  blasted  as  it  went — beneath  its 
baneful  breath  everything  withered  and  wasted — loyalty, 
religion,  affection,  and  brotherly  love,  all  died  out  in  the 
devoted  country — anarchy  and  bloodshed  were  masters  of 
the  scene.  The  first  dreadful  act  of  this  fearful  drama 
passed  like  a  dream  to  those  who,  at  a  distance  from  Paris, 
only  read  of  the  atrocities  of  that  wretched  capital ;  but 
when  the  wave  rolled  nearer,  when  crowds  of  armed  men, 


A  STORY   OP   THE   YEAR   '92.  413 

wild  and  savage  in  look,  with  ragged  uniforms  and  blood* 
stained  hands,  prowled  about  the  villages,  where  in 
happier  times  a  soldier  had  never  been  seen — when  the 
mob  around  the  guillotine  supplied  the  place  of  the  gather- 
ing at  the  market — when  the  pavement  was  wet  and 
slippery  with  human  blood,  men's  natures  suddenly  became 
changed,  as  though  some  terrible  curse  from  on  high  had 
fallen  on  them ;  their  minds  caught  up  the  fearful  conta- 
gion of  revolt,  and  a  mad  impulse  to  deny  all  they  had 
once  held  sacred  and  venerable  seized  on  all.  Their 
blasphemies  against  religion  went  hand  in  hand  with  their 
desecration  of  everything  holy  in  social  life,  and  a  pre- 
eminence in  guilt  became  the  highest  object  of  ambition. 
Sated  with  slaughter,  bloated  with  crime,  the  nation  reeled 
like  a  drunken  savage  over  the  ruin  it  created,  and  with 
the  insane  lust  of  blood  poured  forth  its  armed  thousands 
throughout  the  whole  of  Europe.  Then  began  the  much- 
boasted  triumphs  of  the  revolutionary  armies — the  landed 
victories  of  those  great  asserters  of  liberty — say,  rather, 
the  carnage  of  famished  wolves,  the  devastating  rage  of 
bloodthirsty  maniacs.  The  conscription  seized  on  the 
whole  youth  of  France,  as  if  fearful  that,  in  the  untar- 
nished minds  of  the  young,  the  seeds  of  better  things 
might  bear  fruit  in  season.  They  carried  them  away  to 
scenes  of  violence  and  rapine,  where,  amid  the  shouts  of 
battle  and  the  cries  of  the  dying,  no  voice  of  human 
sympathy  might  touch  their  hearts,  no  trembling  of  re- 
morse should  stir  within  them. 

"  '  You  are  named  in  the  conscription,  Monsieur,'  said 
Leon,  in  a  short  abrupt  tone,  as  one  morning  he  entered 
the  dressing-room  of  his  young  master. 

"  '  I !  I  named  in  the  conscription  !'  replied  the  other, 
with  a  look  of  incredulity  and  anger.  *  This  is  but  a  sorry 
jest,  Master  Leon,  and  not  in  too  good  taste,  either.' 

"  *  Good  or  bad,'  answered  the  steward,  '  the  fact  is  as  I 
say  ;  here  is  the  order  from  the  municipality.  You  were 
fifteen  yesterday,  you  know.' 

"  '  True  ;  and  what  then  ?  Am  I  not  Marquis  de 
Neufchatel,  Count  de  Rochefort,  in  right  of  my  mother?1 

"  '  There  are  no  more  marquises,  no  more  counts,'  said 
the  other,  roughly ;  '  France  has  had  enough  of  such 
cattle  ;  the  less  you  allude  to  them  the  safer  for  your  head.' 


414  TOM   BT'RKE    OP    "  OURS." 

**He  spoke  truly,  the  reign  of  the  aristocracy  was 
ended;  and  while  they  were  yet  speaking,  an  emissary  of 
the  Convention,  accompanied  by  a  party  of  troops,  arrived 
at  the  chateau  to  fetch  away  the  newly-drawn  conscript. 

"  I  must  not  dwell  on  the  scene  which  followed — the 
heartrending  sorrow  of  those  who  had  lived  but  for  each 
other,  now  torn  asunder  for  the  firs  time,  not  knowing 
when,  if  ever,  they  were  to  meet  again.  His  sister  wished 
to  follow  him,  but  even  had  he  permitted  it,  such  would 
have  been  impossible.  The  dreadful  career  of  a  revolu- 
tionary soldier  was  an  obstacle  insurmountable.  The  same 
evening  the  battalion  of  infantry  to  which  he  was  attached 
began  their  march  towards  Savoy,  and  the  lovely  orphan 
of  the  chateau  fell  dangerously  ill. 

"  Youth,  however,  triumphed  over  her  malady,  which, 
indeed,  was  brought  on  by  grief;  and  after  some  weeks 
she  was  restored  to  health.  During  the  interval,  nothing 
could  be  more  kind  and  attentive  than  L6on  Guichard ; 
his  manner,  of  late  years  rough  and  uncivil,  became 
softened  and  tender ;  the  hundred  little  attentions  which 
illness  seeks  for  he  paid  with  zeal  and  watchfulness; 
everything  which  could  alleviate  her  sorrow  or  calm  her 
afflicted  mind,  was  resorted  to  with  a  kind  of  instinctive 
delicacy,  and  she  began  to  feel  that  in  her  long-cherished 
dislike  of  the  intendant  she  had  done  him  grievous  wrong. 

"  This  change  of  manner  attracted  the  attention  of  many 
besides  the  inhabitants  of  the  chateau.  They  remarked 
his  altered  looks  and  bearing,  the  more  studied  attention 
to  his  dress  and  appearance,  and  the  singular  difference  in 
all  his  habits  of  life ;  no  longer  did  he  pass  his  time  in  the 
wild  orgies  of  debauchery  and  excess,  but  in  careful 
management  of  the  estate,  and  rarely  or  never  left  the 
chateau  after  nightfall. 

"  A  hundred  different  interpretations  were  given  to  this 
line  of  acting  :  some  said  that  the  more  settled  condition 
of  political  affairs  had  made  him  cautious  and  careful,  for 
it  was  now  the  reign  of  the  Directory,  and  the  old  excesses 
of  '92  were  no  longer  endured  ;  others,  that  he  was 
naturally  of  a  kind  and  benevolent  nature,  and  that  his 
savage  manner  and  reckless  conduct  were  assumed  merely 
in  compliance  with  the  horrible  features  of  the  time. 
howeverf  suspected  the  real  cause.  Leon  Cruicharcl 


A   STOHY   OF   THE  YEAR   '92.  415 

was  m  love !  Yes,  the  humble  steward,  the  coarse 
follower  of  the  vices  of  that  detestable  period,  was  capti- 
vated by  the  beauty  of  the  young  girl,  now  springing  into 
womanhood.  The  freshness  of  her  artless  nature,  her 
guileless  innocence,  her  soft  voice,  her  character  so 
balanced  between  gaiety  and  thoughtfulness,  her  loveli- 
ness, so  unlike  all  he  had  ever  seen  before,  had  seized  upon 
his  whole  heart ;  and,  as  the  sun  darting  from  behind  the 
blackest  clouds  will  light  up  the  surface  of  a  bleak  land- 
scape, touching  every  barren  rock  and  tipping  every  bell 
of  purple  heath  with  colour  and  richness,  so  over  his 
rugged  nature  the  beauty  of  this  fair  girl  shed  a  very  halo 
of  light,  and  a  spirit  awoke  within  him  to  seek  for  better 
things,  to  endeavoiir  better  things,  to  fly  the  coarse, 
depraved  habits  of  his  former  self,  to  conform  to  the  tastes 
of  her  he  worshipped.  Day  by  day  his  stern  nature  became 
more  softened.  No  longer  those  terrible  bursts  of  passion, 
to  which  he  once  gave  way,  escaped  him ;  his  voice,  his 
very  look,  too,  were  changed  in  their  expression,  and  a 
gentleness  of  manner  almost  amounting  to  timidity  now 
characterized  him  \\ho  had  once  been  the  type  of  the 
most  savage  Jacobin. 

"  She  to  whom  this  wondrous  change  was  owing  knew 
nothing  of  the  miracle  she  had  worked  ;  she  would  not, 
indeed,  have  believed,  had  one  told  her.  She  scarcely 
remarked  him  when  they  met,  and  did  not  perceive  that 
he  was  no  longer  like  his  former  self;  her  whole  soul 
wrapped  up  in  her  dear  brother's  fate,  she  lived  from  week 
to  week  in  the  thought  of  his  letters  home.  It  is  true  her 
life  had  many  enjoyments  which  owed  their  source  to  the 
intendant's  care  ;  but  she  knew  not  of  this,  and  felt  more 
grateful  to  him  when  he  came  letter  in  hand  from  the 
little  post  of  the  village,  than  when  the  fair  moss-roses  of 
spring  filled  the  vases  of  the  salon,  or  the  earliest  fruits 
of  summer  decked  her  table.  At  times  something  in  his 
demeanour  would  strike  her — a  tinge  of  sorrow  it  seemed 
rather  than  aught  else  ;  but  as  she  attributed  this,  as  every 
other  grief,  to  her  brother's  absence,  she  paid  no  further 
attention  to  it,  and  merely  thought  good  L6on  had  more 
feeling  tnan  they  used  to  give  him  credit  for. 

"  At  last,  the  campaign  of  Arcole  over,  the  young  soldier 
obtained  a  short  leave  to  see  his  sister.  How  altered 


416  TOM  BURKE   OF    "  OURS.'* 

they  both  ;  she,  from  the  child,  had  become  the  beautiful 
girl ;  her  eyes  flashing  with  the  brilliant  sparkle  of  youth, 
her  step  elastic,  her  colour  changing  with  every  passing 
expression.  He  was  already  a  man,  bronzed  and  sun- 
burnt ;  his  dark  eyes  darker,  and  his  voice  deeper,  but 
still  his  former  self  in  all  the  warmth  of  his  affection  to 
his  sister. 

"  The  lieutenant,  for  so  was  he  always  called  by  the  old 
(soldier  who  accompanied  him  as  his  servant,  and  often- 
times by  the  rest  of  his  household,  had  seen  much  of  the 
world  in  the  few  years  of  his  absence. 

"  The  chances  and  changes  of  a  camp  had  taught  him 
many  things  which  lie  far  beyond  its  own  limits,  and  he 
had  learned  to  scan  men's  minds  and  motives,  with  a  quick 
eye  and  ready  wit.  He  was  not  long,  therefore,  in 
observing  the  alteration  in  Leon  Guichard's  manner,  nor 
was  he  slow  in  tracing  it  to  its  real  cause.  At  first,  the 
sudden  impulse  of  his  passion  would  have  driven  him  to 
any  length ;  the  presumption  of  such  a  thought  was  too 
great  to  endure — but  then  the  times  he  lived  in  taught 
him  some  strong  lessons ;  he  remembered  the  scenes  of 
social  disorder  and  anarchy  of  his  childhood ;  how  every 
rank  became  subverted,  and  how  men's  minds  were  left  to 
their  own  unbridled  influences  to  choose  their  own  position, 
and  he  bethought  him,  that  in  such  trials  as  these,  Leon 
had  conducted  himself  with  moderation;  that  to  his 
skilful  management  it  was  owing,  if  the  property  had  not 
Buffered  confiscation  like  so  many  others,  and  that  it  was, 
perhaps,  hard  to  condemn  a  man  for  being  struck  by 
charms  which,  however  above  him  in  the  scale  of  rank, 
were  still  continually  before  his  eyes.  Reasoning  thus, 
he  determined,  as  the  wisest  course,  to  remove  his  sister 
to  the  house  of  a  relative,  where  she  could  remain  during 
his  absence.  This  would  at  once  put  a  stop  to  the 
steward's  folly — for  so  he  could  not  help  deeming  it — and, 
what  was  of  equal  consequence  in  the  young  soldier's  eyes, 
prevent  his  sister  being  offended  by  ever  suspecting  the 
existence  of  such  a  feeling  towards  her.  The  plan,  once 
resolved  on,  met  no  difficulty  from  his  sister ;  his  promise 
to  return  soon  to  see  her  was  enough  to  compensate  for 
any  arrangement,  and  it  was  determined  that  they  should 
Bet  out  towards  the  south  by  the  first  week  in  September. 


A   STOKY   OF   THE    YEAR   '92.  417 

"When  the  intimation  of  this  change  first  reached 
Leon,  which  it  did  from  the  other  servants,  he  could  not 
believe  it,  and  resolved  to  hasten  to  the  lieutenant  himself, 
and  ask  if  it  were  true.  On  that  day,  however,  the  young 
soldier  was  absent  shooting,  and  was  not  to  return  before 
night.  Tortured  with  doubt  and  fear,  trembling  at  the 
very  thought  of  her  departure — whose  presence  had  been 
the  loadstar  of  his  life — he  rushed  from  the  house  and 
hurried  into  the  wood.  Every  spot  reminded  him  of  her, 
and  he  shuddered  to  think  that  in  a  few  hours  his  existence 
would  have  lost  its  spring — that  ere  the  week  was  passed 
he  would  be  alone  without  the  sight  of  her,  whom,  even  to 
have  seen,  constituted  the  happiness  of  the  whole  day. 
Revolving  such  sad  thoughts,  he  strolled  on,  not  knowing 
whither,  and,  at  last,  on  turning  the  angle  of  a  path, 
found  himself  before  the  object  of  his  musings ;  she  was 
returning  from  a  farewell  visit  to  one  of  the  cottagers, 
and  was  hastening  to  the  chateau  to  dress  for  dinner. 

"  '  Ah,  Monsieur  Leon,'  said  she,  suddenly, '  I  am  glad 
to  meet  you  here — these  poor  people  at  the  wooden  bridge 
will  miss  me,  I  fear  ;  you  must  look  to  them  in  my  absence. 
And  there  is  old  Jeannette — she  fancies  she  can  spin  still 
— I  pray  you  let  her  have  her  little  pension  regularly. 
The  children  at  Calotte,  too — they  are  too  far  from  the 
school — mind  that  they  have  their  books.' 

" '  And  are  you  indeed  going  from  hence,  made- 
moiselle?' said  he,  in  a  tone  and  accent  so  unlike  his 
ordinary  one,  as  to  make  her  start  with  surprise. 

"  '  Yes,  to  be  sure.     We  leave  the  day  after  to-morrow.' 

*' '  And  have  you  no  regret,  mademoiselle,  to  leave  the 
home  of  your  childhood  and  those  you  have — known 
there  ? ' 

"  *  Sir  ! '  replied  she  haughtily,  as  the  tone  of  his  voice 
assumed  a  meaning  which  could  not  be  mistaken ;  '  you 
seem  to  have  forgotten  yourself  somewhat,  or  you  had 
not  dared ' 

"  Dared ! '  interrupted  he,  in  a  louder  key—'  dared !  I 
have  dared  more  than  that !  Yes,'  cried  he,  in  a  voice 
where  passion  could  be  no  longer  held  under,  '  Leon 
Guichard,  the  steward,  has  dared  to  love  his  master's 
daughter!  Start  not  so  proudly  back,  madame!  Time 
was  when  such  an  avowal  had  been  a  presumption  death 


418  TOM   BCRKE  OF  "  OURS." 

could  not  repay  ;  but  these  days  are  passed.  The  haughty 
nave  been  well  humbled ;  they  who  deemed  their  blood  a 
streant  too  pure  to  mingle  with  the  current  in  plebeian 
veins,  have  poured  it  lavishly  beneath  the  guillotine. 
L6on  Guichard  has  no  master  now !  ' 

"The  fire  flashed  from  his  eyes  as  he  spoke,  and  his 
colour,  pale  at  first,  grew  darker  and  darker,  till  his  face 
became  almost  purple,  while  his  nostrils,  swelled  to  twice 
their  natural  size,  dilated  and  contracted  like  those  of  a 
fiery  charger.  Terrified  at  the  frightful  paroxysm  of 
passion  before  her,  the  timid  girl  endeavoured  to  allay  his 
anger,  and  replied, — 

"  You  know  well,  Leon,  that  my  brother  has  ever 
treated  you  as  a  friend " 

"  '  He  a  friend !  '  cried  he,  stamping  on  the  ground, 
while  a  look  of  demoniac  malice  lit  up  his  features.  '  He, 
who  talks  to  me  as  though  I  were  a  vassal — a  slave  ;  he, 
who  deems  his  merest  word  of  approval  a  recompense  for 
all  my  labour — all  my  toil ;  he,  whose  very  glance  shoots 
into  my  heart  like  a  dagger.  Think  you  I  forgive  him 
the  contemptuous  treatment  of  nineteen  years,  or  that  I 
can  pardon  insults  because  they  have  grown  into  habits  ? 
Hear  me ! ' — he  grasped  her  wrist  rigidly  as  he  spoke, 
and  continued — *  I  have  sworn  an  oath  to  be  revenged  on 
him  from  the  hour  when,  a  boy,  scarce  eight  years  old,  he 
struck  me  in  the  face,  and  called  me  canaille.  I  vowed  his 
ruin.  I  toiled  for  it,  I  strove  for  it,  and  I  succeeded — ay, 
succeeded.  I  obtained  from  the  Convention  the  confiscation 
of  your  lands — all — everything  you  possessed.  I  held  the 
titles  in  my  possession,  for  I  was  the  owner  of  this  broad 
chateau — ay — Leon  Guichard — even  so.  You  were  but  my 
guest  here.  I  kept  it  by  me  many  a  day,  and  when  your 
brother  was  drawn  in  the  conscription,  I  resolved  to  assert 
my  right  before  the  world.'  He  paused  for  a  moment,  while 
a  tremendous  convulsion  shook  his  frame,  and  made  him 
tremble  like  one  in  an  ague ;  then,  suddenly  rallying,  he 
passed  his  hand  across  his  brow,  and,  in  a  lower  voice, 
resumed,  '  I  would  have  done  so,  but  for  you.' 

"  '  For  me !  What  mean  you  ?  '  said  she,  almost  sink- 
ing with  terror. 

"  *  I  loved  you — loved  you  as  only  he  can  love  who  can 
•nrrender  all  his  cherished  hopest — his  dream  of  ambition 


A    STOP.?   OF   THE    YEAR    '92.  419 

— his  vengeance  even,  to  his  love.  I  thought,  too,  that 
you  were  not  cold  to  my  advances ;  and  fearing  lest  any 
hazard  should  apprise  you  of  my  success,  and  thus  run 
counter  to  my  wishes,  I  lived  on  here  as  your  servant, 
still  hoping  for  the  hour  when  I  might  call  you  mine,  and 
avow  myself  the  lord  of  this  chateau.  How  long  I  might 
have  continued  thus  I  know  not.  To  see  you,  to  look  on 
you,  to  live  beneath  the  same  roof  with  you,  seemed 
happiness  enough ;  but  when  I  heard  that  you  were  to 
leave  this,  to  go  away,  never  to  return,  perhaps,  or  if  so, 

not  as  her  I  loved  and  worshipped,  then Bat  why  look 

you  thu  ?  Is  it  because  you  doubt  these  things  ?  Look 
here,  see  this.  Is  that  in  form  ?  Are  these  signatures 
authentic  ?  Is  this  the  seal  of  the  National  Convention  ? 
What  say  you  now  ?  It  is  not  the  steward  Le"on  that  sues, 
but  the  Citizen  Guichard,  proprietaire  de  Bochefort.  Now, 
niethinks,  that  makes  some  difference  in  the  proposition.' 

"'None,  sir,'  replied  she,  with  a  voice  whose  steady 
utterance  made  each  word  sink  into  his  heart ;  '  save  that 
it  adds  to  my  contempt  for  him  who  has  dared  to  seek  my 
affection  in  the  ruin  of  my  family.  I  did  not  despise  you 
before ' 

"  '  Beware,'  said  he,  in  a  voice  of  menace,  bat  in  which 
no  violence  of  passion  entered, '  you  are  in  my  power.  I 
ask  you  again,  will  you  consent  to  be  my  wife  ?  Will  you 
save  your  brother  from  the  scaffold,  and  yourself  from 
beggary  and  ruin  ? — I  can  accomplish  both.' 

"  A  look  of  ineffable  scorn  was  all  her  reply ;  when  he 
sprang  forward  and  threw  his  arm  round  her  waist. 

"  '  Or  would  you  drive  me  to  the  worst •' 

"  A  terrific  shriek  broke  from  her  as  she  felt  his  hand 
around  her,  when  the  brushwood  crashed  behind  her,  and 
her  brother's  dogs  sprang  from  the  thicket.  With  a  loud 
cry  she  called  upon  his  name  ;  he  answered  from  the  wood, 
and  dashed  towards  her  just  as  she  sank  fainting  to  the 
ground.  Leon  was  gone. 

"  As  soon  as  returning  strength  permitted,  she  told  her 
brother  the  fearful  story  of  the  steward ;  but  bound  him 
by  every  entreaty  not  to  bring  himself  in  contact  with  a 
monster  so  depraved.  When  they  reached  the  chateau, 
they  learned  that  Guichard  had  been  there  and  left  it 
again  ;  and  from  that  hour  they  saw  him  no  more. 


420  TOM   BURKE   OF   "  OORS." 

"  I  must  now  conclude  in  a  few  words,  and  to  do  so, 
may  mention,  that  in  the  year  '99  I  became  the  purchaser 
of  Haut  Bochefort,  at  a  sale  of  forfeited  estates,  it  having 
been  bought  by  Government  on  some  previous  occasion, 
but  from  whom  and  how,  I  never  heard.  The  story  I 
have  told  I  learned  from  the  notaire  of  Hubane,  the 
village  in  the  neighbourhood,  who  was  conversant  with 
all  its  details,  and  knew  well  the  several  actors  in  it,  as 
well  as  their  future  fortunes. 

"  The  brother  became  a  distinguished  officer,  and  rose 
to  some  rank  in  the  service,  but  embarking  in  the  expe- 
dition to  Ireland,  was  reported  to  Bonaparte  as  having 
betrayed  the  French  cause.  The  result  was,  he  was 
struck  off  the  list  of  the  army,  and  pronounced  degraded ; 
he  died  in  some  unknown  place. 

"  The  sister  became  attached  to  her  cousin,  but  the 
brother  opposing  the  union,  she  was  taken  away  to  Paris ; 
the  lover  returned  to  Bretague,  where,  having  heard  a 
false  report  of  her  mrrriage  at  Court,  he  assumed  holy 
orders,  and  being  subsequently  charged,  but  it  is  now 
believed  falsely,  of  corresponding  with  the  Bourbons,  was 
shot  in  his  own  garden  by  a  platoon  of  infantry.  But  how 
is  this  ?  are  you  ill  ?  has  my  story  so  affected  you  ?  " 

"  That  brother  was  my  friend — my  dearest,  my  only 
friend,  Charles  de  Meudon." 

"  What  1  and  did  you  know  poor  Charles  ?  " 

But  I  could  not  speak ;  the  tears  ran  fast  down  my 
cheeks  as  I  thought  of  all  his  sorrows — sorrows  far  greater 
than  ever  he  had  told  me. 

"  Poor  Marie,"  said  the  general,  as  he  wiped  a  tear 
from  his  eye  ;  "  few  have  met  such  an  enemy  as  she  did ; 
every  misfortune  of  her  life  has  sprung  from  one  hand  ; 
her  brother's,  her  lover's  death,  were  both  his  acts." 

"  Leon  Guichard !  And  who  is  he  ?  or  how  could  he 
have  done  these  things  ?  " 

"  Methinks  you  might  yourself  reply  to  your  own 
question." 

"  I !     How  could  that  be  ?     I  know  him  not." 

"  Yes,  but  you  do :  Leon  Guichard  is  Mehee  de  la 
Touche!" 

Had  a  thunderbolt  fallen  between  us  I  could  not  have  felt 
more  terror.  That  name,  spoken  but  twice  or  thrice  in  my 


A   STORY   OF   THE    TEAR    '92.  .      421 

hearing,  had  each  time  brought  its  omen  of  evil.  It  was  the 
same  with  whose  acquaintance  Marie  de  Meudon  charged 
me  in  the  garden  of  Versailles,  the  same  who  brought  the 
Chouans  to  the  guillotine,  and  had  so  nearly  involved 
myself  in  their  ruin  ;  and  now  I  heard  of  him  as  one  whose 
dreadful  life  had  been  a  course  of  perfidy  and  crime,  one 
who  blasted  all  around  him,  and  scattered  ruin  as  he  went. 

"  I  have  little  more  to  add,"  resumed  the  general,  after 
a  long  pause,  and  in  a  voice  whose  weakened  accents 
evinced  how  fearfully  the  remembrance  he  called  up 
affected  him.  "  What  remains,  too,  more  immediately 
concerns  myself  than  others.  I  am  the  last  of  my  house  ; 
an  ancient  family,  and  one  not  undistinguished  in  the 
annals  of  France,  hangs  but  on  the  feeble  thread  of  a 
withered  and  broken  old  man's  life,  with  whom  it  dies ; 
my  only  brother  fell  in  the  Austrian  campaign.  I  never 
had  a  sister ;  uncles  and  cousins  I  have  had  in  numbers, 
but  death  and  exile  have  been  rife  these  last  twenty  years, 
and,  save  myself,  none  bears  the  name  of  D'Anvergne. 
Yet  once  I  nourished  the  hope  of  a  family — of  a  race  who 
should  hand  down  the  ancient  virtues  of  our  house  to 
after  years.  I  thought  of  those  gallant  ancestors  whose 
portraits  graced  the  walls  of  the  old  chateau  I  was  born 
in,  and  fancied  myself  leading  my  infant  boy  from  picture 
to  picture,  as  I  pointed  out  the  brave  and  the  good,  who 
had  been  his  forefathers.  But  this  is  a  dream  long  since 
dispelled.  I  was  then  a  youth,  scarce  older  than  yourself, 
rich,  and  with  every  prospect  of  happiness  before  me ;  I 
fell  in  love,  and  the  object  of  my  passion  seemed  one 
created  to  have  made  the  very  paradise  I  sought  for.  She 
was  beautiful,  beyond  even  the  loveliest  of  a  handsome 
Court ;  high-born  and  gifted  ;  but  her  heart  was  bestowed 
on  another — one  who,  unlike  myself,  encouraged  no 
daring  thoughts,  no  ambitious  longings,  but  who,  wholly 
devoted  to  her  he  loved,  sought  in  tranquil  quiet  the 
happiness  such  spirits  can  give  each  other.  She  told  me 
herself  frankly,  as  I  speak  now  to  you,  that  she  could  not 
be  mine,  and  then  placed  my  hand  in  her  husband's.  This 
was  Marie  de  Bochefort,  the  mother  of  Mademoiselle  de 
Meudon. 

"  The  world's  changes  seem  ever  to  bring  about  these 
strange  vicissitudes  by  which  our  early  deeds  of  good  and 


422  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

evil  are  brought  more  forcibly  to  our  memories,  and  we 
are  made  to  think  over  the  past  by  some  accident  of  the 
present.  After  twenty  years  I  came  to  live  in  that 
chateau  where  she  whom  I  once  loved  had  lived  and  died. 
I  became  the  lord  of  that  estate  which  her  husband  once 
possessed,  and  where  in  happiness  they  had  dwelt  together. 
I  will  not  dwell  upon  the  thoughts  such  associations  ever 
give  rise  to  ;  I  dare  not,  old  as  I  am,  evoke  them."  He 
paused  for  some  minutes,  and  then  went  on  :  "  Two  years 
ago  I  learned  that  Mademoiselle  de  Meudon  was  the 
daughter  of  my  once  loved  Marie.  From  that  hour  I  felt 
no  longer  childless  ;  I  watched  over  her,  without,  how- 
ever, attracting  notice  on  her  part,  and  followed  her 
everywhere ;  the  very  day  I  saw  you  first  at  the  Poly- 
technique  I  was  beside  her.  From  all  I  could  learn  and 
hear,  her  life  had  been  one  of  devoted  attachment  to  her 
brother,  and  then  to  Madame  Bonaparte ;  her  heart,  it 
was  said,  was  buried  with  him  she  once  loved ;  at  least 
none  since  had  ever  won  even  the  slightest  acknowledg- 
ment from  her  bordering  on  encouragement. 

"  Satisfied  that  she  was  everything  I  could  have  wished 
my  own  daughter,  and  feeling  that  with  youth  the  springs 
of  affection  rarely  dry  up,  I  conceived  the  idea  of  settling 
all  my  property  on  her,  and  entreating  the  Emperor  to 
make  me  her  guardian,  with  her  own  consent  of  course. 
He  agreed  ;  he  went  further ;  he  repealed,  so  far  as  it 
concerned  her,  the  law  by  which  the  daughters  of  royalists 
cannot  inherit,  and  made  her  eligible  to  succeed  to 
property,  and  placed  her  hand  at  my  disposal. 

"  Such  was  the  state  of  matters  when  I  wrote  to  you  ; 
since  that  I  have  seen  her,  and  spoken  to  her  in  confidence  ; 
she  has  consented  to  every  portion  of  the  arrangement, 
save  that  which  involves  her  marrying  ;  but  some  strange 
superstition  being  over  her  rniud  that  her  fate  is  to  ruin 
all  with  whom  it  is  linked,  that  her  name  carries  an  evil 
destiny  with  it,  she  refuses  every  offer  of  marriage,  and 
will  not  yield  to  my  solicitation. 

"  I  thought,"  said  the  general,  as  he  leaned  on  his 
hand,  and  muttered  half  aloud,  "  that  I  had  conceived  a 
plan  which  must  bring  happiness  with  it ;  but,  however, 
one  part  of  my  design  is  accomplished — she  is  my  heir, 
the  daughter  of  my  own  loved  Marie  is  the  child  of  my 


A    STORY   OF   THE    YEAR   '92.  423 

adoption,  and  for  this  I  have  reason  to  feel  grateful.  The 
cheerless  feeling  of  a  death- bed  where  not  one  mourns 
for  the  dying,  haui  ts  me  no  longer,  and  I  feel  not  as  one 
deserted  and  alone.  To-morrow  I  go  to  wish  her  adieu  ; 
and  we  are  to  be  at  the  Tuileries  by  noon.  The  Emperor 
holds  a  levee,  and  our  final  orders  will  then  be  given." 

The  old  general  rallied  at  the  last  few  words  he  spoke, 
and  pressing  my  hand  affectionately,  wished  me  good 
night,  and  withdrew ;  while  I,  with  a  mind  confused  and 
stunned,  sat  thinking  over  the  melancholy  story  he  had 
related,  and  sorrowing  over  the  misfortunes  of  one  whose 
lot  in  lifo  had  been  far  sadder  than  my  own. 


Si      0 


CHAPTER  XLIL 

THE    HALL   OF   THK    MARSHALS. 

SOME  minutes  before  noon  we  entered  the  Place  dn 
Carrousel,  now  thronged  with  equipages  and  led  horses. 
Officers,  in  the  rich  uniforms  of  every  arm  of  the  service, 
were  pressing  their  way  to  the  palace,  amid  the  crash  of 
carriages,  the  buzz  of  recognitions,  and  the  thundering 
sounds  of  the  brass  band,  whose  echo  was  redoubled 
beneath  the  vaulted  vestibule  of  the  palace. 

Borne  along  with  the  torrent,  we  mounted  the  wide 
stair  and  passed  from  room  to  room,  until  we  arrived  at 
the  great  antechamber  where  the  officers  of  the  house- 
hold were  assembled  in  their  splendid  dresses.  Here  the 
crowd  was  so  dense  we  were  unable  to  move  on  for  some 
time,  and  it  was  after  nearly  an  hour's  waiting  that  we  at 
last  found  ourselves  within  that  gorgeous  gallery  named 
by  the  Emperor  "La  Salle  des  Marechaux."  At  any 
other  moment  my  attention  had  been  riveted  upon  the 


424  TOM   BURKE   OF   "  OURS." 

magnificence  and  beauty  of  this  great  salon,  its  pictures, 
its  gildings,  the  richness  of  the  hangings,  the  tasteful 
elegance  of  the  ceiling,  with  its  tracery  of  dull  gold,  the 
great  works  of  art  in  bronze  and  marble  that  adorned  it 
on  every  side  ;  but  now  my  mind  took  another  and  very 
different  range.  Here  around  me  were  met  the  greatest 
generals  and  warriors  of  Europe — the  names  second 
alone  to  his  who  had  no  equal.  There  stood  Ney,  with 
his  broad,  retiring  forehead,  and  his  eyes  black  and  flash- 
ing, like  an  eagle's.  With  what  energy  he  spoke !  how 
full  of  passionate  vigour  that  thick  and  rapid  utterance, 
that  left  a  tremulous  quivering  on  his  lip  even  when  he 
ceased  to  speak  !  What  a  contrast  to  the  bronzed,  un- 
moved features  of  the  large  man  he  addressed,  and  who 
listened  to  him  with  such  deference  of  manner ;  his  yellow 
moustache  bespeaks  not  the  Frenchman,  he  is  a  German, 
by  blood  at  least,  for  it  is  Kellerman,  the  colonel  of  the 
cuirassiers  of  the  Guard.  And  yonder  was  Soult,  with 
his  strong  features  seamed  by  many  a  day  of  hardship, 
the  centre  of  a  group  of  colonels  of  the  staff,  to  whom  he 
was  rapidly  communicating  their  orders.  Close  beside 
him  stood  Lannes,  his  arm  in  a  sling ;  a,  gun-shot  wound 
that  defied  the  art  of  the  surgeons  still  deprived  him  of 
his  left  hand.  And  there  leaned  Savary  against  the 
window,  his  dark  eyes  riveted  on  the  corps  of  gendarmerie 
in  the  court  beneath.  Full  taller  by  a  head  than  the 
largest  about  him,  he  seemed  almost  gigantic  in  the 
massive  accoutrements  of  his  service.  The  fierce  Davoust ; 
the  gay  and  splendid  Murat,  with  his  waving  plumes  and 
jewelled  dolman;  Lefebvre,  the  very  type  of  his  class, 
moving  with  difficulty  from  a  wound  in  his  hip — all  were 
there  ;  while  passing  rapidly  from  place  to  place,  I  re- 
marked a  young  and  handsome  man,  whose  uniform  of 
colonel  bore  the  decoration  of  the  Legion ;  he  appeared  to 
know  and  be  known  to  all :  this  was  Eugdne  Beauharnais, 
the  stepson  of  the  Emperor.  "Ah,  General  d'Auvergne," 
cried  he,  approaching  with  a  smile,  "  his  Majesty  desires 
to  see  you  after  the  leve*e.  You  leave  to-night,  I 
believe  ?  " 

"Yes,  colonel,  all  is  in  readiness,"  said  the  general, 
while  I  thought  a  look  of  anxiety  at  the  Emperor's 
summons  seemed  to  agitate  his  features. 


THE  HALL  OF  THE  MARSHALS.        423 

"One  of  yonr  staff?  "  said  Beauharnais,  bowing,  as  lie 
looked  towards  me. 

"  My  aide-de-camp,  Lieutenant  Burke,"  replied  the 
general,  presenting  me. 

"  Ah  !  I  remember,"  said  the  colonel,  as  he  drew  himself 
proudly  up,  and  seemed  as  though  the  recollection  were 
anything  but  favourable  to  me.  But  just  then  the  wide 
folding -doors  were  thrown  open,  and  a  loud  voice  pro- 
claimed, "  Sa  Majeste  1'Empereur  !  "  In  an  instant  every 
voice  was  hushed,  the  groups  broke  up,  and  fell  back  into 
two  long  lines,  between  which  lay  a  passage  ;  along  this  the 
officers  of  the  palace  retired  slowly,  facing  the  Emperor, 
who  came  step  by  step  after  them.  I  could  but  see  the 
pale  face,  massive  and  regular,  like  the  head  of  an  antique 
cameo  ;  the  hair  combed  straight  upon  his  fine  forehead, 
and  his  large,  full  eyes,  as  they  turned  hither  and  thither 
among  that  crowd,  once  his  equals,  now  how  immeasurably 
his  inferiors !  He  stopped  every  now  and  then  to  say  a 
word  or  two  to  some  one  as  he  passed,  but  in  so  low  a 
tone  that,  even  in  the  dead  silence  around,  nothing  was 
audible  save  a  murmur.  It  was  a  relief  to  my  own  excited 
feelings  as,  with  high,  beating  heart,  I  gazed  on  the 
greatest  monarch  of  the  world,  that  I  beheld  the  others 
around,  the  oldest  generals,  the  time-worn  companions  of 
his  battles,  not  less  moved  than  myself. 

While  the  Emperor  passed  slowly  along,  I  could  mark 
that  Eugene  Beauharnais  moved  rapidly  through  the 
gallery,  whispering  now  to  this  one,  now  to  that,  among 
the  officers  of  superior  grade,  who,  immediately  after,  left 
the  salon  by  a  door  at  the  end.  At  length  he  approached 
General  d'Auvergne,  saying  : — 

"  The  audience  of  the  marshals  will  not  occupy  more 
than  half  an  hour ;  pray  be  in  readiness  to  wait  on  his 
Majesty  when  he  calls.  You  can  remain  in  the  blue 
drawing-room  next  the  gallery." 

The  general  bowed,  and,  taking  my  arm,  moved  slowly 
from  the  spot  in  the  direction  mentioned,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  we  found  ourselves  in  the  small  room  where  the 
Empress  used  to  receive  her  morning  visitors  during  the 
Consulate. 

"  Yon  remember  this  salon,  Burke  ?  "  said  the  general, 
carelessly. 


426  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS." 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  too  well ;  it  was  here  that  his  Majesty 
gave  me  that  rebuke " 

"  True,  true,  my  dear  boy ;  I  forgot  that  completely. 
But  come,  there  has  been  time  enough  to  forget  it  since. 
I  wonder  what  can  mean  this  summons  to  attend  here ! — I 
have  received  my  orders — there  has  been,  so  far  as  I 
understand,  no  change  of  plan.  Well,  well,  we  shall  soon 
know — see,  the  levee  has  begun  to  break  up  already — 
there  goes  the  staff  of  the  artillery — that  roll  of  the  drum 
is  for  some  general  of  division." 

And  now  the  crash  of  carriages,  and  the  sounds  of 
cavalry  escorts,  jingling  beside  them,  mingled  with  the 
deep  beating  of  the  drums,  made  a  mass  of  noises  that 
filled  the  air,  and  continued  without  interruption  for  above 
an  hour. 

"  Sacristi ! "  cried  the  general,  "  the  crowd  seems  to 
pour  in  as  fast  as  it  goes  out.  This  may  last  for  the  entire 
day.  I  have  scarce  two  hours  left  me  now." 

He  walked  the  room  impatiently,  now  muttering  Rome 
broken  words  to  himself,  now  stopping  to  listen  to  the 
sounds  without.  Still  the  din  continued,  and  the  distant 
roll  of  equipages,  growing  louder  as  they  came,  told  that 
the  tide  was  yet  pressing  onwards  towards  the  palace. 
"  Three  o'clock,"  cried  the  general,  as  the  bell  of  the 
pavilion  sounded ;  "  at  four  I  was  to  leave ;  such  were  my 
written  orders,  signed  by  the  minister." 

His  impatience  now  became  extreme  He  knew  how 
difficult  it  was,  in  a  matter  of  military  discipline,  to  satisfy 
Napoleon  that  any  breach,  even  when  caused  by  his  direct 
orders,  was  not  a  fault.  Besides,  his  old  habits  had  taught 
him  to  respect  a  command  from  the  Minister  of  War  as 
something  above  alL others. 

"  Beauharnais  must  have  mistaken,"  said  he,  angrily. 
"  His  Majesty  gave  me  my  final  directions.  I'll  wait  no 
longer." 

Yet  did  he  hesitate  to  leave,  and  seemed  actually  to 
rely  on  me  for  some  hint  for  his  guidance.  I  did  not 
dare  to  offer  a  suggestion,  and  while'  thus  we  both 
stood  uncertain,  the  door  opened,  and  a  huissier  called 
out, — 

"  Lieutenant- Genei-al  d'Auvergne — this  way,  sir,"  said 
the  official,  as  he  threw  open  a  folding-door  into  a  long 


THE  HALL  OP  THE  MARSHALS.         427 

gallery  that  looked  into  the  garden.     They  passed  out 
together,  and  I  was  alone. 

The  agitation  of  the  general  at  this  unexpected  sum- 
mons had  communicated  itself  to  me,  but  in  a  far 
different  way;  for  I  imagined  that  his  Majesty  desired 
only  to  confer  some  mark  of  favour  on  the  gallant 
old  general  before  parting  with  him.  Yet  did  I  not 
venture  to  suggest  this  to  him,  for  fear  I  should  be  mis- 
taken. 

While  1  revolved  these  doubts  in  my  mind,  the  door 
was  flung  open  with  a  crash,  and  a  page,  in  the  uniform  of 
the  Court,  rushed  in. 

"  May  I  ask,  sir,"  cried  he,  breathlessly,  "  can  yon  inform 
me  where  is  the  aide-de-camp  of  the  General  d'Auvergne 
— I  forget  the  name,  unfortunately  ?  " 

"  I  am  the  person — Lieutenant  Burke." 

"  The  same  ;  that  is  the  name.  Come  after  me  with  all 
haste — this  way."  And  so  saying,  he  rushed  down  a 
flight  of  stone  stairs,  clearing  six  or  seven  at  a  spring. 

"  A  hurried  business  this,  lieutenant,"  said  the  page, 
laughingly.  "  Took  them  all  by  surprise,  I  fancy." 

"  What  is  it  ? — What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  I,  eagerly. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  he,  placing  his  fingers  on  his  lips  ;  "  here 
they  come." 

We  had  just  time  to  stand  to  one  side  of  the  gallery,  as 
the  officers  of  the  household  came  up,  two  and  two, 
followed  by  the  Chancellor  of  France,  and  the  Dean  of 
St.  Roch,  in  his  full  canonicals.  They  approached  the 
table,  on  which  several  papers  and  documents  were  lying, 
and  proceeded  to  sign  their  names  to  different  writings 
before  them.  While  I  looked  on,  puzzled  and  amazed, 
totally  unable  to  make  the  most  vague  conjecture  of  the 
nature  of  the  proceedings,  I  perceived  that  General  d'Au- 
vergne had  entered  the  room,  and  was  standing  among  the 
rest  at  the  table. 

"  Whose  signature  do  you  propose  here,  General  ?  " 
said  the  Chancellor,  as  he  took  up  a  paper  before  him. 

"  My  aide-de-camp,  Lieutenant  Burke." 

"  He  is  here,  sir,"  said  the  page,  stepping  forward. 

"  You  are  to  sign  your  name  here,  sir,  and  again  on  this 
side,"  said  the  Chancellor,  "with  your  birthplace  annexed, 
age,  and  rank  in  the  service." 


428  TOM   BURKE    OF   "  OURS." 

"  I  am  a  foreigner,"  said  I ;  "  does  that  make  any  dif- 
ference here  ?  " 

*'  None,"  said  he,  smiling;  "  the  witness  is  but  a  very 
subordinate  personage  here." 

I  took  the  pen,  and  proceeded  to  write  as  I  was  desired ; 
and,  while  thus  engaged,  the  door  opened,  and  a  short, 
heavy  step  crossed  the  room.  I  did  not  dare  to  look  up ; 
some  secret  feeling  of  terror  ran  through  me,  and  told  me 
it  was  the  Emperor  himself. 

"  Well,  D'Auvergne,"  said  he,  in  a  frank,  bold  way, 
quite  different  from  his  ordinary  voice,  "  you  seem  but 
half  content  with  this  plan  of  mine.  Pardieu  I  there's 
many  a  brave  fellow  would  not  deem  the  case  so  hard 
a  one." 

"  As  your  wish,  sire——" 

"  As  mine,  diantre  I  my  friend ;  do  not  say  mine  only ; 
you  forget  that  the  lady  expressed  herself  equally  satis- 
fied. Come !  is  the  acte  completed  ?  " 

"  It  wants  but  your  Majesty's  signature,"  said  the 
Chancellor. 

The  Emperor  took  the  pen,  and  dashed  some  inde- 
scribable scroll  across  the  paper;  then  turning  suddenly 
towards  the  general,  he  conversed  with  him  eagerly  for 
several  minutes,  but  in  so  low  a  voice  as  not  to  be  audible 
where  I  stood.  I  could  but  catch  the  words  "  Darmstadt 
— Augsburg — the  fourth  corps,"  from  which  it  seemed  the 
movements  of  the  army  were  the  subject;  when  he  added, 
in  a  louder  voice, — 

"  Every  hour  now  is  worth  a  day,  ay,  a  week,  here- 
after. Remember  that,  D'Auvergne." 

"  Everything  is  finished,  sire,"  said  the  Chancellor, 
handing  the  folded  papers  to  the  Emperor. 

"  These  are  for  your  keeping,  general,"  said  he,  deliver- 
ing them  into  D'Auvergne's  hand. 

"  Pardon,  sire,"  said  the  Chancellor,  hastily,  "  I  have 
made  a  great  error  here.  Madame  la  Comtesse  has  not 
appended  her  signature  to  the  consent." 

"  Indeed  1"  said  the  Emperor,  smiling.  "We  have 
been  too  hasty,  it  would  .seem ;  so  thinks  our  reverend 
father  of  Saint  Boch,  I  perceive,  who  is  evidently  not 
accustomed  to  officiate  au  coup  de  tambour" 

"  Her  Majesty  the  Empress !  "  said  the  huissier,  aa  he 


THE  HALL  OF  THE  MARSHALS.        429 

opened  the  doors  to  permit  her  to  enter.  She  was  dressed 
in  full  Court  dress,  covered  with  jewels.  She  held  within 
her  arm  the  hand  of  another,  over  whose  figure  a  deep 
veil  was  thrown,  that  entirely  concealed  her  from  head 
to  foot. 

"  Madame  la  Comtesse  will  have  the  kindness  to  sign 
this,"  said  the  Chancellor,  as  he  handed  over  a  pen  to  the 
lady.  She  threw  back  her  veil  as  he  spoke.  As  she 
turned  towards  the  table,  I  saw  the  pale,  almost  deathlike 
features  of  Marie  de  Meudon.  Such  was  the  shock,  I 
scarce  restrained  a  cry  from  bursting  forth,  and  a  film  fell 
before  my  eyes  as  I  looked,  and  the  figures  before  me 
floated  like  masses  of  vapour  before  my  sight. 

The  Empress  now  spoke  to  the  general,  but  no  longer 
could  I  take  notice  of  what  was  said.  Voices  there  were, 
but  they  conveyed  nothing  to  rny  mind.  A  terrible  rush 
of  thoughts,  too  quick  for  perception,  chased  each  other 
through  my  brain,  and  I  felt  as  though  my  temples  were 
bursting  open  from  some  pressure  within.  Suddenly  the 
general  moved  forward,  and  knelt  to  kiss  the  Empress's 
hand ;  he  then  took  that  of  Mademoiselle  de  Meudon, 
and  held  it  to  his  lips.  I  heard  the  word  "  Adieu ! " 
faintly  uttered  by  her  low  voice ;  the  veil  fell  once  more 
over  her  features ;  that  moment  a  stir  followed,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  more  we  were  descending  the  stairs  alone, 
the  general  leaning  on  my  arm,  his  right  hand  pressed 
across  his  eyes.  When  we  reached  the  court,  several 
officers  of  rank  pressed  forward,  and  I  could  hear  the 
buzz  of  phrases  implying  congratulations  and  joy,  to 
which  the  old  general  replied  briefly,  and  with  evident 
depression  of  manner.  The  dreadful  oppression  of  a  sad 
dream  was  over  me  still,  and  I  felt  as  though  to  awake 
were  impossible,  when,  to  some  remark  near  him,  the 
general  replied, — 

"  True  !  quite  true,  monseigneur;  I  have  made  her  my 
wife.  There  only  remains  one  reparation  for  it,  which  is 
to  make  her  my  widow." 

"  His  wife  1 "  said  I,  aloud,  re-echoing  the  word  without 
knowing. 

"  Even  so,  mon  ami"  said  he,  pressing  my  hand  softly. 
*'  My  name  and  my  fortune  are  both  hers.  As  for  myself 
—we  shall  never  meet  again."  He  turned  away  his  head 


430  TOM   BURKE   OP    "  OURS.** 

as  he  spoke,  nor  uttered  another  word  during  the  ro« 
mainder  of  the  way. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  Rue  de  Rohan  the  horses  were 
harnessed  to  the  carriage,  and  all  in  readiness  for  our 
departure.  The  rumour  of  expected  war  had  brought  a 
crowd  of  idlers  about  the  door,  through  which  we  passed 
with  some  difficulty  into  the  house.  Hastily  throwing  an 
eye  over  the  now  dismantled  room,  the  old  general  ap- 
proached the  window  that  looked  out  upon  the  Tuileries. 
"  Adieu ! "  muttered  he  to  himself ;  '*  je  ne  vous  reverrai 
iamais  /"  And  with  that  'he  pressed  his  travelling- cap 
over  his  brows,  and  descended  the  stairs. 

A  cheer  burst  from  the  mob — the  postilion's  whip 
cracked  loudly — the  horses  dashed  over  the  pavement — 
and,  ere  the  first  flurry  of  mad  excitement  had  subsided 
from  my  mind,  Paris  was  some  miles  behind  us,  and  we 
were  hastening  on  towards  the  frontier. 

Almost  every  man  has  experienced  at  least  one  period 
of  his  life  when  the  curtain  seems  to  drop,  and  the  drama 
in  which  he  has  hitherto  acted  to  end ;  when  a  total 
change  appears  to  pass  over  the  interests  he  has  lived 
among,  and  a  new  and  very  different  kind  of  existence  to 
open  before  him.  Such  is  the  case  when  the  death  of 
friends  has  left  us  alone  and  companionless ;  when  they, 
into  whose  ears  we  poured  our  whole  thoughts  of  sorrow 
or  of  joy,  are  gone,  and  we  look  around  upon  the  bleak 
world,  without  a  tie  to  existence,  without  one  hope  to 
cheer  us.  How  naturally  then  do  we  turn  Irom  every 
path  and  place  once  lingered  over ;  how  do  we  fly  the 
thoughts  wherein  once  consisted  our  greatest  happi- 
ness, and  seek,  from  other  sources,  impressions  less 
painful,  because  unconnected  with  the  past.  Still  the 
bereavement  of  death  is  never  devoid  of  a  sense  of  holy 
calm,  a  sort  of  solemn  peace  connected  with  the  memory 
of  the  lost  one.  In  the  sleep  that  knows  no  waking,  we 
see  the  end  of  earthly  troubles — in  the  silence  of  the 
grave  come  no  sounds  of  this  world's  contention — the 
winds  that  stir  the  rank  grass  of  the  churchyard  breathe, 
at  least,  repose.  Not  so  when  fate  has  severed  us  from 
those  we  loved  best  during  lifetime ;  when  the  fortunes 
we  hoped  to  link  with  our  own  are  torn  asunder  from  us ; 
when  the  hour  comes  when  we  must  turn  from  the  path 


THE  HALL  OF  THE  MARSHALS.         431 

we  Lad  followed  with  pleasure  and  happiness,  and  seek 
another  road  in  life,  bearing  with  ns  not  only  all  the 
memory  of  the  past,  but  all  the  speculation  on  the  future. 
There  is  no  sorrow,  no  affliction,  like  this. 

It  was  thus  I  viewed  my  joyless  fortune— with  such  de- 
pressing reflections  I  thought  over  the  past.  What  mat- 
tered it  now  how  my  career  might  turn,  there  lived  not  one 
to  care  whether  rank  or  honour,  disgrace  or  death,  were 
to  be  my  portion.  The  glorious  path  I  often  longed  to 
tread  opened  for  me  now  without  exciting  one  spark  of 
enthusiasm  :  so  is  it  even  in  our  most  selfish  desires,  we 
live  less  for  ourselves  than  others. 

If  my  road  in  life  seemed  to  present  few  features  to  hang 
hopes  on,  he  who  sat  beside  me  appeared  still  more  de- 
pressed. Seldom  speaking,  and  then  but  in  monosyllables, 
he  remained  sunk  in  reverie.  And  thus  passed  the  days 
of  our  journey,  when,  on  the  third  evening,  we  came  in 
sight  of  Coblentz.  Then  indeed  there  burst  upon  my 
astonished  gaze  one  of  those  scenes  which,  once  seen,  are 
never  forgotten.  From  the  gentle  declivity  which  we  were 
now  descending,  the  view  extended  several  miles  in  every 
direction.  Beneath  us  lay  the  city  of  Coblentz,  its  spires 
and  domes  shining  like  gilded  bronze  as  the  rays  of  the 
setting  sun  fell  upon  them  ;  the  Moselle  swept  along  one 
side  of  the  town  till  it  mingled  its  eddies  with  the  broad 
Rhine,  now  one  sheet  of  liquid  gold  ;  the  long  pontoon 
bridge,  against  whose  dark  cutwaters  the  bright  stream 
broke  in  sparkling  circles,  trembled  beneath  the  dull  roll 
of  artillery  and  baggage-waggons,  which  might  be  seen 
issuing  from  the  town,  and  serpentining  their  course  along 
the  river's  edge  for  miles,  till  they  were  lost  in  the  narrow 
glen  by  which  the  Lahn  flows  into  the  Rhine  ;  beyond  rose 
the  great  precipice  of  rock,  with  its  crowning  fortress  of 
Ehrenbreitstein,  along  whose  battlemented  walls,  almost, 
lost  in  the  heavy  clouds  of  evening,  might  be  seen  dark 
specks  moving  from  place  to  place — the  soldiers  of  the 
garrison  looking  down  from  their  eyrie  on  the  war-tide 
that  flowed  beneath.  Lower  down  the  river  many  boata 
were  crossing,  in  which,  as  the  sunlight  shone,  one  could 
mark  the  glancing  of  arms  and  the  glitter  of  uniforms ; 
while  farther  again,  and  in  deep  shadow,  rose  the  solitary 
towers  of  the  ruined  castle  of  Lahneck,  its  shattered  walla 


432  TOM   BUBEK    OP    "  OUBS." 

and  grass-grown  battlements  standing  clearly  out  against 
the  evening  sky. 

Far  as  we  were  off,  every  breeze  that  stirred  bore  to- 
wards us  the  softened  swell  of  military  music,  which,  even 
when  too  faint  to  trace,  made  the  air  tremulous  with  its 
martial  sounds.  Along  the  ramparts  of  the  city  were 
crowds  of  townspeople,  gazing  with  anxious  wonderment 
at  the  spectacle ;  for  none  knew,  save  the  generals  in  com- 
mand of  divisions,  the  destination  of  that  mighty  force, 
the  greatest  Europe  had  ever  seen  up  to  that  period.  Such 
indeed  were  the  measures  taken  to  ensure  secrecy,  that 
none  were  permitted  to  cross  the  frontier  without  a  special 
authority  from  the  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs  ;  the  letters 
in  the  various  post-offices  were  detained,  and  even  travel- 
lers were  denied  post-horses  on  the  great  roads  to  the 
eastward,  lest  intelligence  might  be  conveyed  to  Germany 
of  the  movement  in  progress.  Meanwhile,  at  Manheim,  at 
Spire,  at  Strasburg,  and  at  Coblentz,  the  long  columns 
streamed  forth  whose  eagles  were  soon  destined  to  meet  in 
the  great  plains  of  Southern  Germany.  Such  was  the 
gorgeous  spectacle  that  each  moment  grew  more  palpable 
to  our  astonished  senses — more  brilliant  far  than  any- 
thing painting  could  realize — more  spirit-stirring  than  the 
grandest  words  that  poet  ever  sang. 

"  The  cuirassiers  and  the  dragoons  of  the  Guard  are 
yonder,"  said  the  general,  as  he  directed  his  glass  to  a 
large  square  of  the  town,  where  a  vast  mass  of  dismounted 
cavalry  were  standing  ;  "  you  see  how  punctual  they  are ; 
we  are  but  two  hours  behind  our  time,  and  they  are  await- 
ing our  arrival." 

"  And  do  we  move  forward  to-night,  general  ?  "  asked  I, 
in  some  surprise. 

"  Yes,  and  every  night.  The  marches  are  to  be  made 
fourteen  hours  each  day.  There  go  the  Lancers  of  Berg 
— you  see  their  scarlet  dolmans,  don't  you  ?  and  yonder, 
in  the  three  large  boats,  beyond  the  point,  there  are  the 
sappers  of  the  Guard.  What  are  the  shouts  I  hear  ? — 
whence  comes  that  cheering  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  see — it's  a  vivandiere ;  her  horse  has  backed 
into  the  river.  See — see! — she  is  going  to  swim  him 
over !  Look  how  the  current  takes  him  down.  Bravely 
done,  faith !  She  heads  him  to  the  stream — it  won't  do, 


THE  HALL  OP  THE  MARSHALS.         488 

though  ;  she  must  be  carried  down."  Just  at  this  critical 
moment,  a  boat  shoots  out  from  under  the  cliff — a  few 
strokes  of  the  oars,  and  they  are  alongside.  There's  a 
splash  and  a  shout,  and  the  skiff  moves  on.  "  And  now  I 
see  they  have  given  her  a  rope,  and  are  towing  her  and  her 
horse  across." 

"  See  how  the  old  spirit  comes  back  with  the  first  blast 
of  the  trumpet,"  said  the  old  general,  as  his  eyes  flashed 
with  enthusiasm.  "  That  damsel  there— I'll  warrant  ye— 
she'd  have  thought  twice  about  stepping  over  a  rivulet  in 
the  streets  of  Paris  yesterday,  and  look  at  her  now.  Well 
done !  gallantly  done !  See  how  she  spurs  him  up  the 
bank !  Ma  foi,  mademoiselle,  you'll  have  no  lack  of 
lovers  for  that  achievement." 

A  few  minutes  more  and  we  entered  the  town,  whose 
streets  were  thronged  with  soldiers  harrying  on  to  their 
different  corps,  and  eager  townsfolk  asking  a  hundred 
questions,  to  which,  of  course,  few  waited  to  reply. 

"  This  way,  general,"  said  an  officer  in  undress,  who 
recognized  General  d'Auvergne.  "The  cavalry  of  the 
third  division  is  stationed  on  the  square." 

Driving  through  a  narrow  street,  through  which  the 
caleche  had  barely  room  to  pass,  we  now  found  ourselves 
in  the  Place,  a  handsome  space  surrounded  with  a  double 
row  of  trees,  under  which  the  dragoons  were  lying,  hold- 
ing the  bridles  of  their  horses. 

The  general  had  scarcely  put  foot  to  ground  when  the 
trumpets  sounded  the  call.  The  superior  officers  came 
running  forward  to  greet  him.  Taking  the  arm  of  a  short 
man  in  the  uniform  of  the  cuirassiers,  the  general  entered 
a  caf£  near,  while  I  became  the  centre  of  some  dozen  officers, 
all  eagerly  asking  the  news  from  Paris,  and  whether  the 
Emperor  had  yet  left  the  capital.  It  was  not  -without 
considerable  astonishment  I  then  perceived  how  totally 
ignorant  they  all  were  of  the  destination  of  the  army- 
many  alleging  it  was  designed  for  Russia,  and  others 
equally  positive  that  the  Prussians  were  the  object  of 
attack ;  the  arguments  in  support  of  each  opinion  being 
wonderfully  ingenious,  and  only  deficient  in  one  respect, 
having  not  a  particle  of  fact  for  their  foundation.  In  the 
midst  of  these  conjecturings  came  a  new  subject  for  dis- 
cussion, for  one  of  the  group  who  had  just  received  a  letter 


484  TOM    BUBKE    OP    "  OURS.'* 

from  his  brother,  a  page  at  the  Tuileries,  was  reading  the 
contents  aloud  for  the  benefit  of  the  rest : 

"  Jules  says  that  they  are  all  astray  as  to  the  Emperor's 
movements ;  Duroo  has  left  Paris  suddenly,  but  no  one 
knows  for  where ;  the  only  thing  certain  is,  a  hot  campaign 
is  to  open  somewhere.  One  hundred  and  eighty  thousand 
men " 

"  Bah ! "  said  an  old,  white-moustached  major,  with  a 
look  of  evident  unbelief;  "  we  never  had  forty  with  the 
army  of  the  Sambre." 

"  And  what  then  ?  "  said  another,  fiercely ;  "  do  yon 
compare  your  army  of  the  Sambre,  your  sans-culottes 
republicans,  with  the  Imperial  troops  ?  " 

The  old  major's  face  became  deeply  crimsoned,  and  with 
a  muttered  "A  demain"  he  walked  away. 

"Go  after  him,  Amedee,"  said  another;  "you  had  no 
right  to  say  that." 

"  Not  I,  faith,"  said  the  other,  carelessly ;  "  there  is  a 
grudge  between  us  these  three  weeks  past,  and  we  may  as 
well  have  it  out.  Go  on  with  the  letter,  Henri." 

"  Oh,  it  is  filled  with  Court  gossip,"  said  the  reader, 
negligently.  "  Ha !  what  is  this,  though — the  postscript : 

"  '  1  have  just  time  to  tell  you  the  strangest  bit  of  news 
we  have  chanced  upon  for  some  time  past.  The  Emperor 
has  this  moment  married  old  General  d'Auvergne  to  the 
very  handsomest  girl  in  the  Empress's  suite,  Mademoiselle 
de  Meudon.  There  is  a  rumour  afloat  about  the  old  man 
having  made  her  his  heir,  and  desiring  to  confer  her  hand 
on  some  young  fellow  of  his  own  choosing ;  but  this  pas- 
sion to  make  Court  matches,  which  has  seized  his  Majesty 
lately,  stops  at  nothing ;  and  it  is  whispered  that  old 
Madame  d'Orvalle  is  actually  terrified  at  every  levee,  lest 
she  should  be  disposed  of  to  one  of  the  new  marshals.  I 
must  say  that  the  general  looks  considerably  put  out  by  the 
arrangement ;  not  unnaturally,  perhaps,  as  he  is  likely  to 
pass  the  honeymoon  in  the  field  ;  while  his  aide-de-camp, 
a  certain  Monsieur  Burke,  whose  name  you  may  remember 
figuring  in  the  affair  of  Pichegru  and  George '  " 

"  Perhaps  it  were  as  well,  sir,"  said  I,  quietly,  "  that  I 
should  tell  you  the  person  alluded  to  is  myself.  I  have 
no  desire  to  learn  how  your  correspondent  speaks  of  me ; 
nor,  I  take  it  for  granted,  do  these  gentlemen  desire  to 


THE    HALL    OF   THE    MAKSHAL8.  435 

cam  ass  me  in  my  own  hearing;  with  your  leave,  then,  I 
shall  withdraw." 

"  A  word,  monsiem-,  one  word,  first,"  said  the  officer, 
whose  insolent  taunt  had  already  offended  the  veteran 
major ;  "  we  are  most  of  us  here  staff  officers,  and  I  need 
not  say  accustomed  to  live  pretty  much  together.  Will 
you  favour  us,  then,  with  a  little  explanation  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  you  escaped  a  trial  in  that  business :  your 
name,  if  I  mistake  not,  did  not  figure  before  the  tribunal 
after  the  first  day  ?  " 

'Well,  sir;  and  then?" 

'  And  then  ?  why  there  is  one  only  explanation  in  such 
a  circumstance." 

'  And  that  is  ?  if  I  may  be  so  bold " 

'  That  the  mouchard  fares  better  than  his  victim." 
'  I  believe,  sir,"  said  I,  "I  comprehend  your  meaning ; 
I  hope  there  will  be  no  fear  of  your  mistaking  mine."  Witb 
that  I  drew  off  the  long  gauntlet  glove  I  wore,  and  struck 
him  across  the  face. 

Every  man  sprang  backwards  as  I  did  so,  as  though  a 
shell  had  fallen  in  the  midst  of  us ;  while  a  deep  voice 
called  out  from  behind, — 

"  Le  Capitaine  Amedee  Pichot  is  under  arrest." 

I  turned,  and  beheld  the  provost- marshal  with  his 
guard  approach,  and  take  my  adversary's  sword  from 
him. 

"  What  charge  is  this,  marshal  ? "  said  he,  as  a  livid 
colour  spread  over  his  cheek. 

"  Your  duel  of  yesterday,  capitaine  ;  you  seem  to  forget 
all  about  it  already." 

"Whenever  and  wherever  you  please,  sir,"  said  I,  pass- 
ing close  beside  him,  and  speaking  in  a  whisper. 

He  nodded  without  uttering  a  word  in  reply,  and  moved 
after  the  guard,  while  the  others  dispersed  silently,  and 
left  me  standing  alone  in  the  Place. 

What  would  I  not  have  given  at  that  moment  for  but 
one  friend  to  counsel  and~advise  me:  and  yet,  save  the 
general,  to  whom  I  dared  not  speak  on  such  a  subject, 
I  had  not  one  in  the  whole  world.  It  was,  indeed,  but 
too  true,  that  life  had  little  value  for  me  ;  yet  never  did  I 
contemplate  a  duel  with  more  abhoirence.  The  insult  I 
had  inflicted,  however,  could  have  no  other  result  While 


436  TOM   BURKE    OF   *'  OURS." 

I  reasoned  thus,  the  door  of  the  cafe"  opened,  and  the 
general  appeared. 

"  Burke,"  cried  he,  "  come  in  here,  and  make  a 
hasty  supper ;  yon  must  be  in  the  saddle  in  half  an 
hour." 

"  Quite  ready,  sir." 

"  T  know  it,  my  lad.  Your  orders  are  there :  ride  for- 
ward to  Ettingen,  and  prepare  the  billets  for  the  fourth 
demi-brigade,  which  will  reach  that  village  by  to-morrow 
evening;  you'll  have  time  for  something  to  eat,  and  a 
glass  of  wine  before  the  orderly  arrives.  This  piece  of 
duty  is  put  on  you,  because  a  certain  Captain  Pichot,  the 
only  one  of  the  commissaries'  department  who  can  speak 
German,  has  just  been  put  under  arrest  for  a  duel  he 
fought  yesterday.  I  wish  the  court-martial  would  shoot 
the  fellow,  with  all  my  heart  and  soul ;  he's  a  perfect 
curse  to  the  whole  division.  In  any  case,  if  he  escape 
this  time,  I'll  keep  my  eye  on  him,  and  he'll  scarce  get 
clear  through  my  hands,  I'll  warrant  him." 

It  may  be  supposed  that  I  heard  these  words  with  no 
common  emotion,  bearing  as  they  did  so  closely  on  my 
own  circumstances  at  the  moment ;  but  I  hung  down  my 
head  and  affected  to  eat,  while  the  old  general  walked 
hastily  up  and  down  the  8<>Ju;i,  muttering,  half  aloud,  heavy 
denunciations  on  the  practice  of  duelling,  which,  at  any 
cost  of  life,  he  resolved  to  put  down  in  his  command. 

"  Done  already !  why,  man,  you've  eaten  nothing. 
Well,  then,  I  see  the  orderly  without ;  you've  got  a  capital 
moonlight  for  your  ride ;  and  so,  au  revoir." 

"  Good-bye,  sir,"  said  I,  as  I  sprang  into  the  saddle ; 
"  and  now  for  Ettingen.** 


48? 


CHAPTER  XLHL 

THE   MARCH   ON   TUB   DANUBK. 

THERE  is  a  strange,  unnatural  kind  of  pleasure  felt  som&. 
times  in  the  continued  attacks  of  evil  fortune  :  the  dogged 
courage  with  which  we  bear  up  against  the  ills  of  fate, 
swimming  more  strongly  as  the  waves  grow  rougher,  has 
its  own  meed  of  consolation.  It  is  only  at  such  a  time, 
perhaps,  that  the  really  independent  spirit  of  our  natures 
is  in  the  ascendant,  and  that  we  can  stand  amid  the  storm, 
conscious  of  our  firmness,  and  bid  the  winds  "  blow  and 
crack  their  cheeks."  Yet,  through  how  many  sorrows 
must  one  have  waded,  ere  he  reach  this  point- — through 
what  trials  must  he  have  passed — how  must  hope  have 
paled,  and  flickered,  and  died  out — how  must  all  self-love, 
all  ambition,  all  desire  itself  have  withered  within  us — till 
we  become  like  the  mere  rock  amid  the  breakers,  against 
which  the  waves  beat  in  vain !  When  that  hour  comes, 
the  h^art  has  grown  cold  and  callous — the  affections  have 
dried  up — and  man  looks  no  more  upon  his  fellow-men  as 
brothers.  Towards  this  sad  condition  I  found  myself 
rapidly  verging ;  the  isolation  of  my  homeless,  friendless 
state — the  death  of  my  hopes — the  uncheered  path  in 
which  I  walked — all  conspired  to  make  me  feel  depressed, 
and  I  perceived  that  a  half-recklessness  was  already 
stealing  over  me,  and  thab,  in  my  indiffei-ence  as  to  for- 
tune, now  lay  my  greatest  consolation.  There  was  a  time 
when  such  a  rencontre  as  lately  befell  me  had  made  ma 
miserable  till  the  hour  came  when  I  should  meet  my 
adversary ;  now,  my  blood  boiled  with  no  indignant 
passion — no  current  of  angry  vengeance  stirred  through 
my  veins — a  stupid  sullenness  was  over  me,  and  I  cared 
nothing  what  might  happen.  And  if  this  state  becama 
not  permanent,  I  owe  it  to  youth  alone — the  mainspring 
of  many  of  our  best  endeavours. 
Vol.  28— (15) 


488  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS.'* 

We  had  travelled  some  seven  or  eight  miles,  when  we 
stopped  for  a  few  seconds  at  the  door  of  a  cabaret,  and 
then  I  discovered  for  the  first  time  that  my  old  friend 
Pioche  was  the  corporal  of  our  little  party.  To  my  slight 
reproach  for  his  not  having  sooner  made  himself  known 
to  me,  the  honest  fellow  replied  that  he  saw  I  was  low  in 
spirits  about  something,  and  did  not  wish  to  obtrude  upon 
me.  "  Not  but,  after  all,  mon  lieutenant,  the  best  way  is 
always  to  '  face  front '  against  bad  luck,  and  charge  through 
— sapermint,  that's  the  way  we  did  at  Marengo,  when 

Dcsaix's  corps  was  cut  off  from  the  left But  pardon, 

mon  qfficier,  1  forgot  you  were  not  there."  There  was 
something  so  pleasant  in  the  gruff  courtesy  of  the  hardy 
cuirassier,  that  I  willingly  led  him  on  to  speak  of  his 
former  life — a  subject  which,  once  entered  on,  he  followed 
as  fancy  or  memory  suggested. 

*'  I  used  to  feel  low-spirited  myself,  once,"  said  Pioche, 
as  he  smoothed  down  his  great  moustache  with  a  compla- 
cent motion  of  his  fingers — **  I  used  to  be  very  low  in  heart 
when  I  entered  the  service  first,  and  saw  all  my  old  school- 
fellows and  companions  winning  their  epaulettes  and  becom- 
ing captains  and  colonels — ay,  parbleu,  and  marechals,too — 
while,  because  I  could  not  read,  I  was  to  remain  all  my  life  in 
the  ranks — as  if  one  could  not  force  a  palisade,  nor  break 
through  a  square,  till  he  had  stuffed  his  head  with  learning. 
All  this  made  me  very  sad,  and  I  would  sit  brooding  over 
it  for  hours  long  ;  but  at  hst  I  began  to  think  my  own  lot 
was  not  the  worst  after  all — my  duty  was  easily  done,  and, 
when  over,  I  could  sleep  sound  till  the  reveil  blew.  I  ran 
no  danger  of  being  scolded  by  the  Petit  Caporal,  because 
my  division  was  not  somewhere  yesterday,  nor  in  some 
other  place  to-day.  He  never  came  with  a  frown  to  ask 
me  why  I  had  not  captured  another  howitzer,  and  taken 
more  prisoners  No,  faith  !  It  was  always,  '  Well  done, 
Pioche — bravely  done,  mon  enfant  I — here's  a  piece  of  twenty 
francs  to  drink  my  health.'  Or,  perhaps,  he'd  mutter  be- 
tween his  teeth, — '  That  honest  fellow  there  would  make  a 
better  general  than  one-half  of  them' — not  that  he  was  in 
earnest,  you  know — but  still  it  was  pleasant  just  to  hear  it." 

"  And  yet,  Pioche,"  said  I,  "  it  does  surprise  me  why, 
geeing  that  this  vrant  of  learning  was  the  bar  to  your  pro- 
Motion,  you  did  not " 


THE  MAKCH  ON  THE  DANUBE.         439 

"And  so  I  did,  mon  lieutenant ;  at  least  I  tried  to  learn 
to  read.  Morbltu  I  it  was  a  weary  time  for  me.  I'd 
rather  be  under  arrest  three  days  a  week,  than  be  at  it 
again.  Mademoiselle  Minette — she  was  the  vivandiere  of 
nurs — undertook  to  teach  me  ;  and  I  used  to  go  over  to 
tne  canteen  every  evening  after  drill.  Many  a  sad  heart 
had  I  over  these  same  lessons.  Saprelotte,  I  could  learn  the 
look  of  every  man  in  a  brigade  before  I  could  know  the 
letters  in  the  alphabet,  they  looked  so  confoundedly  alike 
when  they  stood  up  all  in  a  line.  The  only  fellows  I  could 
distinguish  were  the  big  ones,  that  were  probably  the  ser- 
geants and  sous-qfficiers ;  and  when  my  eye  was  fixed  on 
one  column,  it  would  stray  away  to  another,  and  then 
mademoiselle  would  laugh — and  that  would  lead  to  some- 
thing else.  Et,  mafoi,  the  spelling-book  was  soon  thrown 
aside,  and  lessons  given  up  for  that  evening." 

"  I  suppose  Mademoiselle  Minette  was  pretty,  Pioche?" 
"  Was !  ay,  and  is,  too.  What !  mon  lieutenant,  did 
you  never  see  her  on  parade  ?  She's  the  handsomest  girl 
in  the  army,  and  rides  so  well — mille  cannon*  /  She  mijjht 
have  been  a  great  lady  before  this  if  she'd  have  left  the 
regiment — but  no,  she'd  die  first !  Her  father  was  tam- 
bour-major with  us,  and  killed  at  Groningen,  when  she  was 
only  an  infant — and  we  used  to  carry  her  about  in  our 
arms  on  the  march,  and  hand  her  from  one  to  another.  I 
have  seen  her  pass  from  the  leading  files  to  the  baggage- 
guard,  on  a  long  summer's  day — that  I  have.  Le  Petit 
Caporal  knows  her  well — she  gave  him  a  gourd  full  of  eau- 
de-vie  at  Cairo,  when  he  was  so  faint  he  could  scarcely 
speak.  It  was  after  that  he  saw  her  in  the  breach  at 
Acre — one  of  our  fellows  was  lying  wounded  in  the  ruins, 
and  mademoiselle  waited  till  the  storming  party  fell  back, 
and  then  ran  up  to  him  with  her  flask  in  her  hand. 
'Whose  pretty  ankles  are  these  ?  I  think  I  ought  to  know 
them,'  said  an  officer,  as  she  passed  along.  '  No  flattery 
will  do  with  me,  monsieur,'  cried  Minette ;  it's  hard 
enough  to  get  one's  living  here,  without  giving  Nantz 
brandy  for  nothing.'  Saci'isti  !  when  the  laugh  made  her 
turn  about,  she  saw  it  was  the  Petit  Caporal  himself  who 
spoke  to  her.  Poor  Minette !  she  blushed  scarlet,  and 
nearly  dropped  with  shame,  but  that  did  not  prevent  her 
dashing  up  the  breach  towards  the  wounded  man;  not 


440  TOM  BURKE  OP   "  OURS.** 

that  it  was  of  any  use,  though — he  was  dead  when  she 
got  up." 

"  I  should  like  much  to  see  mademoiselle.  Is  she  still 
with  the  Fourth  ?" 

"  Yes,  man  lieutenant ;  I  parted  with  her  a  few  hours 
ago.  A  half  suppressed  sigh  that  followed  these  words 
showed  that  the  worthy  corporal  was  touched  on  the  most 
tender  key  of  his  nature,  and  for  some  time  he  lapsed  into 
a  sibnce  I  could  not  venture  to  break.  At  length,  desiring 
to  give  the  conversation  a  turn,  I  asked  if  he  knew  the 
Capitaine  Pichot. 

"  Know  him !"  cried  Pioche,  almost  bounding  in  his 
saddle  as  he  spoke.  "  That  I  do.  Peste  /  I  have  good 
reason  to  know  him.  See  there."  With  that  he  lifted 
the  curled  moustache  from  his  upper  lip,  and  disclosed  to 
my  view  a  blue  scar  that  marked  one  side  of  his  mouth. 
"  That  was  his  doing." 

"  Indeed  !     How  so,  pray  ?" 

"  I'll  tell  you  ;  we  were  in  garrison  at  Metz,  where,  as 
yon  know,  the  great  commissariat  station  is  held — thou- 
sands of  cannon  and  mortars,  shells  and  shot,  and  tons  of 
powder  without  end.  Well,  the  orders  were  very  strict 
against  smoking— any  man  found  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth 
was  sentenced  to  a  week  in  the  '  salle  de  police,' and  I  can't 
say  what  else  besides.  When  we  marched  into  the  town  this 
order  stared  us  in  the  face — a  great  placard,  with  big 
letters,  which  they  who  could  read  said  was  against  smok- 
ing. Now,  most  of  us  came  from  Alsace,  and  it  was 
pretty  much  like  setting  a  fish  to  live  on  dry  land,  bidding 
us  go  without  tobacco.  As  for  me,  I  smoke  just  as  I 
breathe,  without  knowing:  or  thinking  of  it.  My  pipe  lies 
in  my  mouth  as  naturally  as  my  foot  rests  in  the  stirrup ; 
and  so,  although  I  intended  to  obey  the  order,  1  knew 
«vell  the  time  might  come  when,  just  from  not  thinking,  I 
should  be  caught  smoking  away — for  if  I  were  on  guard 
over  a  magazine  it  would  be  all  the  same — I  could  not 
help  it.  So  I  resolved,  as  the  only  way  not  to  be  caught 
tripping,  to  leave  all  my  pipes  in  a  secret  place,  till  the 
time  came  for  us  to  leave  Metz — an  hour,  I  need  not  say, 
we  all  anxiously  longed  for.  This  I  did,"  continued 
Pioche,  "  that  same  evening,  and  all  went  on  favourably 
for  some  time,  when  one  night*  as  I  was  returning  to 


THE  MARCH  ON  THE  DANUBE.         441 

quarters,  the  devil,  who  meddles  with  everything  in  this 
world,  made  me  stick  my  hands  into  the  pocket  of  my 
undress  jacket,  and  I  there  discovered  a  little  bit  of  a  pipe 
about  the  length  of  one  joint  of  your  thumb — a  poor 
scrubby  thing  of  clay,  sure  enough — but  there  it  was,  and, 
worse  still,  ready  filled  with  tobacco.  Had  it  been  a  good- 
sized  meerschaum,  with  a  tassel  and  an  amber  mouthpiece, 
I  had  resisted  like  a  man ;  but  the  temptation  came  in  so 
humble  a  shape,  I  thought  I  was  only  guilty  of  a  small 
sin  in  transgressing,  and  so  I  lit  my  little  friend,  and 
went  gaily  along  towards  the  barracks.  Just  as  I  passed 
the  corner  of  the  market-place  I  heard  a  great  noise  of 
voices  and  laughing  in  the  caf§,  and  recognized  the  tones 
of  our  major  and  some  of  the  officers  ;  as  they  sat  sipping 
their  wine  in  the  verandah.  Before  I  could  raise  my  hand 
to  my  mouth,  Capitaine  Pichot  cried  out — '  Halte  la !  — 
right  about »  face — attention  1 — left  wheel — eyes  front.' 
This  I  did,  as  if  on  parade,  and  stood  stock  still — when 
suddenly  crack  went  a  noise,  and  a  pistol-bullet  smashed 
the  pipe  in  two,  and  grazed  my  lip,  when  a  roar  of  laugh- 
ing followed,  as  he  called  out  louder  than  before — '  Quick 
march  ! ' — and  I  stepped  out  to  my  quarters,  never  turn- 
ing my  head  right  or  left,  not  knowing  what  other  ball 
practice  might  be  in  store  for  me.  Tonnerre  de  Dieu  ! 
a  little  windage  of  the  shot  might  have  cost  me  every 
tooth  I  have  in  the  world !  " 

"  It  was  a  cruel  jest,  Pioche,  and  you're  a  good- 
humoured  fellow  to  take  it  so  easily." 

"  Not  so,  lieutenant.  I  had  no  punishment  afterwards, 
and  was  well  content  to  be  quit  for  the  fright !  " 

With  such  stray  memories  of  his  campaigning  days  did 
Pioche  beguile  the  way — now  moralizing  over  the  chances 
and  changes  of  a  soldier's  fortune— now  comforting  him- 
self with  some  pleasant  reflection  that,  even  in  his  own 
humble  walk,  he  had  assisted  at  some  of  the  greatest 
triumphs  of  the  French  armies.  Of  the  future  he  spoke 
with  the  easy  confidence  of  one  who  felt  that  in  the 
Emperor's  guidance  there  could  be  full  trust — both  of  the 
sause  being  a  just  one,  and  the  result  victorious.  A  per- 
fect type  of  his  class,  his  bravery  was  only  to  be  equalled 
by  the  implicit  confidence  he  felt  in  his  leader.  That  the 
troops  of  any  country,  no  matter  how  numerous  and  well 


442  TOM   BURKE   OF   "  OUES." 

equipped,  could  resist  a  French  army,  was  a  problem  he 
could  not  even  entertain.  The  thing  was  too  absurd  :  and 
if  Napoleon  did  not  at  that  moment  wield  undisputed 
sway  over  the  whole  of  Europe,  it  was  simply  owing  to 
his  excess  of  moderation,  and  the  willing  sacrifice  of  his 
ambition  to  his  greater  love  of  liberty. 

I  confess,  if  I  were  sometimes  tempted  to  smile  at  the 
simplicity  of  the  honest  soldier,  I  was  more  often  carried 
away  by  his  warm  enthusiasm  ;  so  frequently,  too,  did  he 
interweave  in  his  narrative  the  mention  of  those  great 
victories,  whose  fame  was  unquestionable,  that,  in  my 
assent  to  the  facts,  I  went  a  great  way  in  my  concurrence 
with  the  inferences  he  deduced  from  them.  And  thus  we 
travelled  on  for  several  days,  in  advance  of  the  division, 
regulating  the  halting-places  and  the  billets,  according  to 
the  nature  and  facilities  of  the  country.  The  towns  and 
villages  in  our  "  route  "  presented  an  aspect  of  the  most 
profound  peace ;  and  however  strange  it  seemed,  yet  each 
day  attested  how  completely  ignorant  the  people  were  of 
the  advance  of  that  mighty  army  that  now,  in  four  vast 
columns  of  march,  was  pouring  its  thousands  into  the 
heart  of  Germany.  The  Princes  of  Baden  and  Darmstadt, 
through  whose  territories  we  passed,  had  not  as  yet  given 
in  their  adherence  to  the  Emperor ;  and  the  inhabitants 
of  those  countries  seemed  perplexed  and  confused  at  the 
intentions  of  their  powerful  neighbour,  whose  immense 
trains  of  ammunition,  and  enormous  parks  of  artillery, 
filled  every  road,  and  blocked  up  every  village. 

At  length  we  reached  Manheim,  where  a  portion  of  the 
corps  of  Marechal  Davoust  were  in  waiting  to  join  us: 
and  there  we  first  learned,  by  the  imperial  bulletin,  the 
object  of  the  war,  and  the  destination  of  the  troops.  The 
document  was  written  by  Napoleon  himself,  and  bore 
abundant  evidence  of  his  style.  After  the  usual  pro- 
gramme, attesting  his  sincere  love  for  peace,  and  his 
desire  for  the  cultivation  of  those  happy  and  industrious 
habits  which  make  nations  more  prosperous  than  glorious, 
it  went  on  to  speak  of  the  great  coalition  between  Russia 
and  Austria,  which,  in  union  with  the  " perfide  Albion," 
had  no  other  thought  nor  wish  than  the  abasement  and 
dismemberment  of  France.  "  But,  soldiers !  "  continued 
he*  "your  Emperor  is  in  the  midst  of  you.  France  itself 


THE  MARCH  ON  THE  DANUBE.         443 

in  all  its  majesty,  is  at  your  back,  and  you  are  but  the 
advanced  guard  of  a  mighty  people !  There  are  fatigues 
and  -privations,  battles  and  forced  marches,  before  you ; 
but  let  them  oppose  to  us  every  resistance  they  are  able — 
we  swear  never  to  cry  Halt!  till  we  have  planted  our 
eagles  on  the  territory  of  our  enemies  1 " 

We  halted  two  days  at  Manheim  to  permit  some 
regiments  to  come  up,  and  then  marched  forward  to 
Nordlingen,  which  place  the  Emperor  himself  had  only 
quitted  the  night  before.  Here  the  report  reached  us 
that  a  smart  affair  had  taken  place  the  previous  morning, 
between  the  Austrian  division  and  a  portion  of  Key's 
advanced  guard,  in  which  we  had  rather  the  worst  of  it, 
and  had  lost  some  prisoners.  The  news  excited  consider- 
able discontent  among  the  troops,  and  increased  their 
impatience  to  move  forward  to  a  very  great  degree. 
Meanwhile,  the  different  divisions  of  the  French  army 
were  converging  towards  Ulm,  from  the  north,  south,  and 
west;  and  every  hour  brought  them  nearer  to  that  de- 
voted spot,  which  as  yet,  in  the  security  of  an  enormous 
garrison,  never  dreamed  of  sudden  attack. 

The  corps  of  Soult  was  now  pushed  forward  to  Augs- 
burg, and,  extended  by  a  line  of  communication  to 
Meiningen,  the  only  channel  of  communication  which  re- 
mained open  to  the  enemy.  The  quartier-general  of  the 
Emperor  was  established  at  Zummerhausen.  Ney  was  at 
Guntzburg,  Marmont  threatened  in  the  west,  and  Berna- 
dotte,  arriving  by  forced  marches  from  Prussia,  hovered  in 
the  north,  so  that  Ulm  was  invested  in  every  direction  at 
one  blow,  and  that  in  a  space  of  time  almost  inconceivable. 

While  these  immense  combinations  were  being  effected, 
requiring  as  they  did  an  enormous  extent  of  circumference 
to  march  over,  before  the  fortress  could  be  thus  enclosed, 
as  it  were,  within  our  grasp,  our  astonishment  increased 
daily  that  the  Austrians  delayed  to  give  battle  ;  but,  as  if 
terror-stricken,  they  waited  on,  day  after  day,  while  the 
measures  for  their  ruin  were  accomplishing.  At  length  a 
desperate  sortie  was  made  from  the  garrison,  and  a  large 
body  of  troops  escaping  by  the  left  bank  of  the  Danube, 
directed  their  course  towards  Bohemia ;  while  another 
corps,  in  the  opposite  direction,  forced  back  Ney's  ad- 
vanced guard,  and  took  the  road  towards  Nordlingen. 


444  TOM  BUBKB  OJT   "  OUB8." 

Having  directed  a  strong  detachment  in  pursuit  of  this 
latter  corps,  which  was  commanded  by  the  Archduke 
Frederick  himself,  the  Emperor  closed  in  around  Ulm, 
and,  forcing  the  passage  of  the  river  at  Elchingen,  pre- 
pared for  the  final  attack. 

While  these  dispositions  were  being  effected,  the  cavalry 
brigade,  under  General  d'Auvergne,  consisting  of  three 
regiments  of  heavy  dragoons,  the  4th  Cuirassiers,  and  8th 
Hussars,  continued  to  descend  the  left  bank  of  the 
Danube,  in  pursuit  of  a  part  of  the  Austrian  garrison 
which  had  taken  that  line  in  retreat  towards  Vienna. 
We  followed  as  far  as  Guntzburg  without  coming  up  with 
them,  and  there  the  news  of  the  capitulation  of  Meiningen, 
with  its  garrison  of  six  thousand  men,  to  Marechal  Soult, 
reached  us,  along  with  an  order  to  return  to  Ulm. 

Up  to  this  time  all  I  had  seen  of  war  was  forced  marches, 
bivouacs  hastily  broken  up,  hurried  movements  in  advance 
and  retreat,  the  fatigue  of  night  parties,  and  a  continual 
alert.  At  first  the  hourly  expectation  of  coming  in  sight 
of  the  enemy  kept  up  onr  spirits  ;  but  when  day  after  day 
passed,  and  the  same  pursuit  followed,  where  the  pursued 
never  appeared,  the  younger  soldiei-s  grumbled  loudly  at 
fatigues  undertaken  without  object,  and,  as  it  seemed  to 
them,  by  mistake. 

On  the  night  of  the  17th  of  October  we  bivouacked 
within  a  league  of  Ulm.  Scarcely  were  the  pickets 
formed  for  the  night,  when  orders  came  for  the  whole 
brigade  to  assemble  under  arms  at  daybreak.  A  thousand 
rumours  were  abroad  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  order,  but 
none  came  near  the  trne  solution  ;  indeed,  the  difficulty 
was  increased  by  the  added  command,  that  the  regiments 
should  appear  "en  grande  tenue"  or  in  full  dress.  I  saw 
that  my  old  commander  made  a  point  of  keeping  me  in 
suspense  as  to  the  morrow,  and  affected,  as  much  as 
possible,  an  air  of  indifference  on  the  subject.  He  had 
himself  arrived  late  from  Ulm,  where  he  had  seen  the 
Emperor,  and  amused  me  by  mentioning  the  surprise  of 
an  Austrian  aide-de-camp,  who,  sent  to  deliver  a  letter, 
found  his  Majesty  sitting  with  his  boots  off,  and  stretched 
before  a  bivouac  fire. 

"  Yes,"  said  Napoleon,  divining  at  once  his  astonish- 
ment, "  it  is  even  so.  Your  master  wished  to  remind  me 


TOE   MAiiCH    ON    THE    »ANUBE.  445 

of  my  old  trade,  and  I  hope  that  the  imperial  purple  has 
not  made  me  forget  its  lessons." 

By  daybreak  the  next  morning  our  brigade  was  in  the 
saddle,  and  in  motion  towards  the  quartier-gkmral — a 
gently  rising  ground,  surmounted  by  a  farm-house,  where 
the  Emperor  had  fixed  his  quarters.  As  we  mounted  the 
hill  we  came  in  sight  of  the  whole  army  drawn  up  in 
battle  array.  They  stood  in  columns  of  divisions,  with 
artillery  and  cavalry  between  them,  the  bands  of  the 
various  regiments  in  front. 

The  day  was  a  brilliant  one,  and  heightened  the  effect 
of  the  scene.  Beyond  us  lay  Ulm — silent  as  if  nn  ten  anted. 
Not  a  sentinel  appeared  on  the  walls ;  the  very  flag  had 
disappeared  from  the  battlements.  Our  surprise  was 
great  at  this  ;  but  how  was  it  increased  as  the  rumour  fled 
from  mouth  to  mouth — "  TJlm  has  capitulated :  thirty- 
five  thousand  men  have  become  prisoners  of  warl  "  Ere 
the  first  moments  of  wonder  had  ceased,  the  staff  of  the 
Emperor  was  seen  passing  along  the  line,  and  finally 
taking  up  its  station  on  the  hill,  while  the  regimental 
bands  burst  forth  into  one  crash  the  most  spirit-stirring 
and  exciting.  The  proud  notes  swelled  and  filled  the  air 
as  the  sun,  bursting  forth  with  increased  brilliancy,  tipped 
every  helmet  and  banner,  and  displayed  the  mighty  hosts 
in  all  the  splendour  of  their  pageantry.  Beneath  the  hill 
stretched  a  vast  plain  in  the  direction  of  Neuburg,  and 
here  we  at  first  supposed  it  was  the  Emperor's  intention 
to  review  the  troops  ;  but  a  very  different  scene  was 
destined  to  pass  on  that  spot. 

Suddenly  a  single  gun  boomed  out,  and  as  the  lazy 
smoke  moved  heavily  along  the  earth,  the  gates  of  Ulm 
opened,  and  the  head  of  an  Austrian  column  appeared. 
Not  with  beat  of  drum,  or  colours  flying,  did  they  ad- 
vance— but  slow  in  step,  with  arms  reversed,  and  their 
heads  downcast,  they  marcnect  on  towards  the  mound ; 
defiling  beneath  this,  they  moved  into  the  plain,  and, 
corps  by  corps,  piled  their  arms,  and  resumed  their 
"route,"  the  white  line  serpentining  along  the  vast  plain, 
and  stretching  away  into  the  dim  distance.  Never  was  a 
sight  so  sad  as  this !  All  that  war  can  present  of  suffer- 
ing and  bloodshed,  all  that  the  battle-field  can  show  of 
dead  and  dying,  were  nothing  to  the  miserable  abasement 


44ft  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS." 

of  those  thousands,  who  from  daybreak  till  noon  poured 
on  their  unceasing  tide. 

On  the  hill  beside  the  Emperor  stood  several  officers  in 
white  uniform,  whose  sad  faces  and  suffering  looks 
attested  the  misery  of  their  hearts.  "  Better  a  thousand 
deaths  than  such  humiliation !  "  was  the  muttered  cry  of 
every  man  about  me  ;  while  in  very  sorrow  at  such  a  scene, 
the  tears  coursed  down  the  hardy  cheeks  of  many  a 
bronzed  soldier,  and  some  turned  away  their  heads,  unable 
to  behold  the  spectacle. 

Seventy  pieces  of  cannon,  with  a  long  train  of  ammuni- 
tion waggons,  and  four  thousand  cavalry  horses,  brought 
up  the  rear  of  this  melancholy  procession — the  spoils  of 
the  capitulation  of  Ulrn.  Truly,  if  that  day  were,  as  the 
imperial  bulletin  announced  it,  "  one  of  the  most  glorious 
*br  France,"  it  was  also  the  darkest  in  the  history  of 
Austria — when  thirty-two  regiments  of  infantry  and 
fifteen  of  cavalry,  with  artillery  and  siege  defences  of 
every  kind,  laid  down  their  arms  and  surrendered  them- 
selves prisoners.  Thus  in  fifteen  days  from  the  passing 
of  the  Rhine  was  the  campaign  begun  and  ended,  and  the 
Austrian  Empire  prostrate  at  the  feet  of  Napoleon. 


447 


CHAPTER  XLIY. 

THK   CANTEEN. 

THE  Emperor  returned  tnat  night  to  Elchingen,  accon> 
panied  by  a  numerous  staff,  among  whom  was  the  General 
d'Auvergne.  I  remember  well  the  toilsome  ascent  of  the 
steep  town,  which,  built  on  a  cliff  above  the  Danube,  was 
now  little  better  than  a  heap  of  ruins,  from  the  assault 
of  Key's  division  two  days  before.  Scrambling  our  way 
over  fallen  houses  and  massive  fragments  of  masonry  we 
reached  the  square  that  forms  the  highest  point  of  the 
city  ;  from  thence  we  looked  down  upon  the  great  plain, 
with  the  majestic  Danube  winding  along  for  miles  ;  in  the 
valley  lay  Ulm — now  sad  and  silent ;  no  watch-fires  blazed 
along  its  deserted  ramparts,  and  through  its  open  gates 
there  streamed  the  idle  tide  of  soldiers  and  camp  followers, 
curious  to  see  the  place  which  once  they  had  deemed 
almost  impregnable.  The  quartier- general  was  established 
here,  and  the  different  staffs  disposed  of  themselves,  as 
well  as  they  were  able,  throughout  the  houses  near.  Most 
of  these,  indeed,  had  been  deserted  by  their  inhabitants, 
whose  dread  of  the  French  was  a  feeling  ministered  to  by 
every  artifice  in  the  power  of  the  Austrian  Government. 
As  for  me,  I  was  but  a  young  campaigner,  and  might  from 
sheer  ignorance  have  passed  my  night  in  the  open  air, 
when  by  good  fortune  I  caught  sight  of  my  old  companion, 
Pioche,  hurrying  along  a  narrow  street,  carrying  a  basket 
well  stored  with  bottles  on  his  arm. 

"Ah,  mon  lieutenant,  you  here,  and  not  supped  yet,  I'd 
wager  a  crown  ?  " 

"You'd  win  it  too,  Pioche;  nor  do  I  see  very  great 
chance  of  my  doing  so." 

"  Come  along  with  me,  sir ;  Mademoiselle  Minette  has 
just  opened  her  canteen  in  the  flower-market-— such  it  w:is 
once,  they  tell  me — but  there  is  little  odour  left  there  now, 


448  TOM    BUKKfi    JF    "  OURS." 

save  such  as  contract  powder  gives.  But  no  matter 
you'll  have  a  roast  capon  and  sausages,  and  some  of  the 
Austrian  wine ;  I  have  just  secured  half  a  dozen  bottles 
here." 

I  need  scarcely  say  that  this  was  an  invitation  there 
was  no  declining,  and  I  joined  the  corporal  at  once,  and 
hurried  on  to  mademoiselle's  quarters.  We  had  not  pro- 
ceeded far,  when  the  noise  of  voices  speaking  and  singing 
in  a  loud  tone  announced  that  we  were  approaching  the 
canteen. 

"You  hear  them,  mon  lieutenant"  said  Pioche,  with  a 
look  of  delight,  "  you  hear  the  rogues.  Par  St.  Jacques, 
they  know  where  to  make  themselves  merry.  Good  wine 
for  drinking,  lodging  for  nothing,  fire  for  the  trouble  of 
lighting  it,  are  brave  inducements  to  enjoy  life." 

"  But  it's  a  canteen ;  surely  mademoiselle  is  paid  ?  " 

"  Not  the  first  night  of  a  campaign,  I  suppose,"  said 
he,  with  a  voice  of  rebuke.  "  Parbleu  !  that  would  be  a 
pretty  affair !  No,  no  ;  each  man  brings  what  he  can 
find,  drinks  what  he  is  able,  and  leaves  the  rest — which, 
after  all,  is  a  very  fair  stock-in-trade  to  begin  with  ;  and 
so  now,  mon  lieutenant,  to  commence  operations  regularly, 
just  sling  this  ham  on  your  sabre  over  your  shoulder,  and 
take  this  turkey  carelessly  in  your  hand — that's  it — here 
we  are — follow  me." 

Passing  through  an  arched  gateway,  we  entered  a  little 
courtyard  where  several  horses  were  picketed,  the  ground 
about  them  being  strewn  with  straw  knee-deep ;  cavalry 
saddles,  holsters,  and  sheep-skins,  lay  confusedly  on  every 
side,  along  with  sabres  and  carbines ;  a  great  lamp, 
detached  from  its  position  over  the  street  entrance,  was 
suspended  from  a  lance  out  of  a  window,  and  threw  its 
light  over  the  scene.  Stepping  cautiously  through  thia 
chaotic  heap,  we  reached  a  glass  door,  from  within  which 
the  riotous  sounds  were  most  audibly  issuing.  Pioche 
pushed  it  open,  and  we  entered  a  large  room,  full  fifty  feet 
in  length,  at  one  end  of  which,  under  a  species  of  canopy, 
formed  by  two  old  regimental  colours,  sat  Mademoiselle 
Minette — for  so  I  guessed  to  be  a  very  pretty  brunette, 
with  a  most  decidedly  Parisian  look  about  her  air  and 
toilette  ;  a  table,  covered  with  a  snow-white  napkin,  was 
in  front  of  her,  on  which  lay  a  large  bouquet  and  an  open 


THE    CANTEEN.  449 

book,  in  which  she  appeared  to  be  writing  as  we  came  in. 
The  room  on  either  side  was  filled  by  small  tables,  around 
which  sat  parties  drinking,  card-playing,  singing,  or 
quarrelling,  as  it  might  be,  with  a  degree  of  energy  and 
vociferation  only  campaigning  can  give  an  idea  of. 

The  first  thing  which  surprised  me  was,  that  all  ranks 
in  the  service  seemed  confusedly  mixed  up  together,  there 
being  no  distinction  of  class  whatever ;  captains  and 
corporals,  sergeants,  lieutenants,  colonels,  and  tambour- 
majors,  were  inextricably  commingled,  hob-nobbing,  hand- 
shaking, and  even  kissing  in  turn  ;  that  most  fraternal 
and  familiar  "  Tu  "  of  dearest  friendship  being  heard  on 
every  side. 

Resisting  a  hundred  invitations  to  join  some  party  or 
other  as  he  passed  up  the  room,  Pioche  led  me  forward 
towards  Mademoiselle  Minette,  to  present  me  in  due  form 
ere  I  took  my  place. 

The  honest  corporal,  who  would  have  charged  a  square 
without  blinking,  seemed  actually  to  tremble  as  he  came 
near  the  pretty  vivandiere,  and  when,  with  a  roguish 
twinkle  of  her  dark  eye,  and  a  half  smile  on  her  saucy  lip, 
she  said,  "Ah,  c'est  toi,  gros  Pioche?"  the  poor  fellow 
could  only  mutter  a  "  Oui,  mademoiselle"  in  a  voice  scarce 
loud  enough  to  be  heard. 

"  And  monsieur,"  said  she,  "  whom  I  have  the  honour 
to  see  ?  " 

"  Is  my  lieutenant,  mademoiselle ;  or  he  is  aide-de- 
camp of  my  general,  which  comes  to  the  same  thing." 

With  a  few  words  of  gracious  civility,  well  and  neatly 
expressed,  mademoiselle  welcomed  me  to  the  canteen, 
which,  she  said,  had  often  been  graced  by  the  presence  of 
General  d'Auvergne  himself. 

"  Yes,  by  St.  Denis ! "  cried  Pioche,  with  energy, 
"  Prince  Murat,  and  Marechal  Davoust,  too,  have  been 
here."  Dropping  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  he  added  some- 
thing that  called  a  faint  blush  to  mademoiselle's  cheek  as 
she  replied, — 

"  You  think  so,  do  you  ?  "  Then,  turning  to  me,  asked 
if  I  were  not  disposed  to  sup. 

"  Yes,  that  he  is,"  interrupted  Pioche,  "  and  here  is  the 
materiel ;  "  with  which  he  displayed  his  pannier  of  bottles, 
and  pointed  to  the  spoils  which,  following  his  directions, 

\  C  C 


450  TOM    BURKE    OF    "  OURS." 

I  carried  in  my  hands.  The  corporal  having  despatched 
the  fowls  to  the  kitchen,  proceeded  to  arrange  a  little 
table  at  a  short  distance  from  where  mademoiselle  sat — 
an  arrangement,  I  could  perceive,  which  called  forth  some 
rather  angry  looks  from  those  around  the  room,  and  I 
could  overhear  more  than  one  muttered  Sacrjf  as  to  the 
ambitious  pretensions  of  the  "gros  Pioche." 

He  himself  paid  little,  if  any,  attention  to  these  signs  of 
discontent,  but  seemed  wholly  occupied  in  perfecting  the 
table  arrangements,  which  he  did  with  the  skill  and 
despatch  of  a  tavern  waiter. 

"  Here,  mon  lieutenant,  this  is  your  place,"  said  he, 
with  a  bow,  as  he  placed  a  chair  for  me  at  the  head  of  the 
board  ;  and  then,  with  a  polite  obeisance  to  the  lady,  he 
added,  " Avec  permission,  mademoiselle"  and  took  his  own 
seat  at  the  ssiuo. 

A  very  appetizing  dish  made  its  appearance  at  this 
moment,  and  notwithstanding  my  curiosity  to  watch  the 
proceedings  of  the  party,  and  my  admiration  for  made- 
moiselle herself,  hunger  carried  the  day,  and  I  was  soon 
too  deeply  engaged  in  the  discussion  of  my  supper  to  pay 
much  attention  to  aught  else.  It  was  just  then  that, 
forgetting  where  I  was,  and  unmindful  that  I  was  not 
enjoying  the  regular  fare  of  an  inn,  I  called  out,  as  if  to 
the  waiter,  for  "  bread."  A  roar  of  laughter  ran  through 
the  room  at  my  mistake,  when  a  dark-whiskered  little 
fellow,  in  an  undress  frock,  stuck  his  small  sword  into 
a  loaf,  and  handed  it  to  me  from  the  table  where  he 
sat. 

There  was  something  in  the  act  which  rather  puzzled 
me,  and  might  have  continued  longer  to  do  so,  had  not 
Pioche  whispered  me  in  a  low  voice,  "  Take  it,  take  it." 

I  reached  out  my  hand  for  the  purpose,  when,  just  as  I 
had  caught  the  loaf,  with  a  slight  motion  of  his  wrist  he 
disengaged  the  point  of  the  weapon,  and  gave  me  a  scratch 
on  the  back  of  my  hand.  The  gesture  I  made  called  forth 
a  renewed  peal  of  laughing,  and  I  now  perceived,  from  the 
little  man's  triumphant  look  at  his  companions,  that  the 
whole  thing  was  intended  as  an  insult.  Resolving,  how- 
ever, to  go  quietly  in  the  matter,  I  held  out  my  hand  when 
it  was  still  bleeding,  and  said,  "  You  perceive,  sir." 

"Ah,  an   accident,  morbleu/"  said  he,  with  a  careless 


THE    CANTEEN.  451 

shrug  of   his   shoulders,  and   a  half-leer  of  impertinent 
indifference. 

"  So  is  this  also,"  replied  I,  as,  springing  up,  I  seized 
the  sword  he  was  returning  to  its  scabbard,  and  smashed 
the  blade  across  my  knee. 

"  Well  done,  well  done !  "  cried  twenty  voices  in  a 
breath,  while  the  whole  room  rose  in  a  confused  manner 
to  take  one  side  or  other  in  the  contest,  several  crowding 
around  the  little  man,  whose  voice  had  suddenly  lost  its 
tone  of  easy  impertinence,  and  was  now  heard  swearing 
away,  with  the  most  guttural  intonation. 

"  What  kind  of  swordsman  are  you  F  "  whispered  Pioche, 
in  my  ear. 

"  Sufficiently  expert  to  care  little  for  an  enemy  of  his 
calibre." 

"  Ah,  you  don't  know  that,"  replied  he  ;  "it's  Francois, 
the  maitre  d'armes  of  the  Fourth." 

"  You  must  not  fight  him,  monsieur,"  said  mademoiselle, 
as  she  laid  her  hand  on  mine,  and  looked  up  into  my  face 
with  a  most  expressive  glance. 

"  They  are  waiting  for  you  without,  mon  lieutenant," 
said  an  old  sergeant-major,  touching  his  cap  as  he  spoke. 

"  Come  along,"  said  Pioche,  with  a  deeply-muttered 
oath ;  "  and,  by  the  blood  of  St.  Louis,  it  shall  be  the  last 
time  Maitre  Fran£ois  shows  his  skill  in  fence,  if  I  cost 
them  the  fire  of  a  platoon  to-morrow." 

I  was  hurried  along  by  the  crowd  to  the  court,  a  hundred 
different  advisers  whispering  their  various  counsels  in  my 
ears  as  I  went. 

"  Take  care  of  his  lunge  in  tierce — mind  that,"  cried 
one. 

"  Push  him  outside  the  arm — outside,  remember — take 
my  advice,  young  man,"  said  an  old  sous-officier ;  "close 
on  him  at  once,  take  his  point  where  he  gives  it,  and  make 
sure  of  your  own  weapon." 

"No  bad  plan  either,"  cried  two  or  three.  "  Monsieur 
Auguste  is  right ;  Francois  can't  bear  the  cold  steel — and 
if  he  sees  it  close,  he  loses  his  head  altogether." 

The  courtyard  was  already  cleared  for  action — the 
horses  picketed  in  one  corner,  the  straw  removed,  and  a 
blaze  of  light  from  all  the  lamps  and  candles  of  the  supper- 
room  showed  the  ground  as  clearly  as  at  noonday.  While 


452  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OURS.*' 

my  antagonist  was  taking  off  his  coat  and  vest,  an  operation 
I  did  not  choose  to  imitate,  I  took  a  rapid  survey  of  the 
scene,  and  notwithstanding  the  rush  of  advisers  around 
me,  was  sufficiently  collected  to  decide  on  my  mode  of 
acting. 

"  Come,  mon  lieutenant,  off  with  your  frock,"  said  an 
officer  at  my  side  ;  "  even  if  you  don't  care  for  the  advan- 
tage of  a  free  sword-arm,  those  fellows  yonder  won't 
believe  it  all  fair,  if  you  do  not  strip." 

"  Yes,  yes,  take  it  off,"  said  a  fellow  in  the  crowd, 
"  your  fine  epaulettes  may  as  well  escape  tarnishing  ;  and 
that  new  coat,  too,  will  be  all  the  better  without  a  hole 
in  it." 

I  hastily  threw  off  my  coat  and  waistcoat,  when  the 
crowd  fell  back,  and  the  maitre  d'armes  advancing  into  the 
open  space  with  a  light  and  nimble  step,  cried  out,  "  En 
garde,  monsieur."  I  stood  my  ground,  and  crossed  my 
sword  with  his. 

For  a  few  seconds  I  contented  myself  with  merely 
observing  my  adversary,  who  handled  his  weapon  not  only 
with  all  the  skill  of  an  accomplished  swordsman,  but  with 
a  dexterity  that  showed  me  he  was  playing  off  his  art 
before  his  companions. 

As  if  to  measure  his  distance,  he  made  two  or  three  slight 
passes  over  the  guard  of  my  sword,  and  then  grating  his 
blade  against  mine  with  that  peculiar  motion  which  bodes 
attack,  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  mine,  to  draw  off  my  attention 
from  his  intended  thrust.  The  quickness  and  facility  with 
which  his  weapon  changed  from  side  to  side  of  mine,  the 
easy  motion  of  his  wrist,  and  the  rigid  firmness  of  his 
arm,  all  showed  me  I  was  no  match  for  him — although 
one  of  the  best  of  my  day  at  the  military  school — and  I 
did  not  venture  to  proceed  beyond  mere  defence.  He  saw 
this,  and  by  many  a  trick  endeavoured  to  induce  an  attack 
— now  dropping  his  point  carelessly,  to  address  a  mono- 
eyllable  to  a  friend  near — now  throwing  open  his  guard, 
as  if  from  negligence.  At  length,  as  if  tired  with  waiting, 
he  called  out, — 

"  Que  celafinisse"  and  rushed  in  on  me. 

The  rapidity  of  the  assault,  for  a  second  or  so,  com- 
pletely overcame  me ;  and  though  I  defended  myself 
mechanically,  I  could  neither  follow  his  weapon  with  my 


THE    CANTEEN.  453 

eye,  nor  anticipate  his  intended  thrust.  Twice,  his  point 
touched  my  sword-arm  above  the  wrist,  and  by  a  slight 
wound  there,  saved  my  lungs  from  being  pierced.  At 
last,  after  a  desperate  rally,  in  which  he  broke  in  on  my 
guard,  he  made  a  fearful  lunge  at  my  chest;  I  bent 
forward,  and  received  his  blade  in  the  muscles  of  my  back, 
when,  with  a  wheel  round,  I  smashed  the  sword  in  me,  and 
buried  my  own,  up  to  the  hilt,  in  his  body.  He  fell, 
bathed  in  blood  ;  and  I,  staggering  backwards,  was  caught 
in  Pioche's  arms,  at  the  moment  when  all  consciousness 
was  fast  leaving  me. 

A  few  minutes  after  I  came  to  myself,  and  found  that 
I  was  lying  on  a  heap  of  straw  in  the  yard,  while  two 
regimental  surgeons  were  most  industriously  engaged  in 
trying  to  stop  the  haemorrhage  of  my  wounds. 

With  little  interest  in  my  own  fate,  I  could  not  help 
feeling  anxious  about  my  antagonist.  They  shook  their 
heads  mournfully  in  reply  to  my  question,  and  desired  me 
to  be  as  calm  as  possible,  for  my  life  hung  on  a  very 
thread.  The  dressing  completed,  I  was  carried  into  the 
house,  and  laid  on  a  bed  in  a  small,  neat-looking  chamber, 
which  I  heard,  as  they  carried  me  along,  mademoiselle  had 
kindly  placed  at  my  disposal.  She  herself  assisted  to 
place  the  pillow  beneath  my  head,  and  then  with  noiseless 
gesture  closed  the  curtains  of  the  window,  and  took  her 
seat  at  the  bedside. 

The  moment  the  others  had  left  the  room,  I  turned  to 
ask  for  the  maitre  d'armes.  But  she  could  only  say  that 
his  companions  of  the  Fourth  had  carried  him  away  to 
the  ambulance,  refusing  all  offers  of  aid,  except  from  the 
surgeons  of  their  own  corps. 

"  They  say,"  added  she,  with  a  naive  simplicity,  "that 
Francois  is  not  made  like  other  folk,  and  that  the  only 
doctors  who  understand  him  are  in  the  Fourth  Regiment. 
However  that  may  be,  it  will  puzzle  them  sadly  this  time 
• — you  have  given  him  his  coup  de  conge." 

"  I  hope  not,  sincerely,"  said  I,  with  a  shudder. 

"And  why  not?"  cried  mademoiselle,  in  astonishment. 
"  Is  it  not  a  good  service  you  render  to  the  whole  brigade  ? 
Would  not  the  division  be  all  the  happier  if  such  as  he, 
and  Pichot,  and  the  rest  of  them ' 

"  PichotH-Amedee  Pichot  ?  " 


454  TOM   BtJRKB    OP   "  OURS." 

"Yes,  Amedee  Pichot,  to  be  sure.  But  what'?  that 
knocking  outside  ?  Ah,  there's  Pioche  at  the  window  I  " 

Mademoiselle  arose  and  walked  towards  the  door,  but, 
before  she  reached  it,  it  was  opened,  and  General  d'Auvergne 
entered  the  room. 

"  Is  he  here  ?  "  asked  he,  in  a  low  voice. 

"Yes,  general,"  said  mademoiselle,  with  a  curtsey,  as 
she  placed  the  chair  for  him  to  sit  down.  "  He  is  much 
better — I'll  wait  outside  till  you  want  me,"  added  she,  as 
she  left  the  room  and  closed  the  door. 

"  Come,  come,  my  boy,"  said  the  kind  old  man,  as  he 
took  my  hand  in  his,  "  don't  give  way  thus.  I  have  made 
many  inquiries  about  this  affair,  and  they  all  tend  to 
exculpate  you.  This  fellow,  Fran9ois,  is  the  mauvaise 
tite  of  the  regiment,  and  I  only  wish  his  chastisement  had 
come  from  some  other  hand  than  yours." 

"  Will  he  live,  general  ?  "  asked  I,  with  a  smothering 
fulness  in  my  throat  as  I  uttered  the  words. 

"  Not  if  he  be  mortal,  I  believe.  The  sword  pierced  his 
chest  from  side  to  side." 

I  groaned  heavily  as  I  heard  these  words  ;  and  burying 
my  head  beneath  the  clothes,  became  absorbed  in  my  grief. 
What  would  I  not  have  endured  then  of  insult  and  con- 
tumely, rather  than  suffer  the  terrible  load  upon  my  con- 
science of  a  fellow-creature's  blood — shed  in  passion  and 
revenge.  How  willingly  would  I  have  accepted  the 
most  despised  position  among  men  to  be  void  of  this 
crime. 

"  It  matters  not,"  cried  I,  in  my  despair — "  it  matters 
not  how  I  guide  my  path,  misfortunes  beset  me  at  every 
turn  of  the  way " 

"  Speak  not  thus,"  said  the  general,  sternly.  "The 
career  you  have  embarked  in  is  a  stormy  and  a  rougli 
one.  Other  men  have  fared  worse  than  you  have  in  it — 
and  without  repining  too.  You  knew  of  one  such  your- 
sslf,  who,  in  all  the  saddest  bereavements  of  his  hopes, 
cherished  a  soldier's  heart  and  a  soldier's  courage." 

The  allusion  to  my  poor  friend,  Charles  de  Meudon, 
brought  the  tears  to  my  eyes,  and  I  felt  that  all  my 
sufferings  were  little  compared  with  his. 

"  Let  your  first  care  be  to  get  well  as  soon  as  yon  can : 
harppily  your  name  may  escape  the  Emperor's  notice  ID 


TI1K    CANTEEN. 

this  affair,  by  appearing  in  the  list  of  wounded — our  friend 
the  maitre  d'armes  is  not  likely  to  discover  on  you.  The 
campaign  is  begun,  however,  and  you  must  try  to  take 
your  share  of  it.  The  Emperor's  staff  starts  for  Munich 
to-morrow.  I  must  accompany  them — but  I  leave  you 
in  good  hands  here ;  and  this  detachment  will  occupy 
Elchingen  at  least  ten  days  longer." 

Scarcely  had  the  general  left  me  when  mademoiselle 
re-entered  the  room. 

"  So,  monsieur,"  said  she,  smiling  archly,  "  you  have 
been  left  in  my  care,  it  seems.  Morbleu  I  it's  well  the 
vivandiere  of  the  regiment  is  not  a  prude,  or  I  should 
scarcely  know  how  to  act.  Well,  well,  one  can  only  do 
one's  best.  And  now,  shall  I  read  for  you,  or  shall  I  leave 
you  quiet  for  an  hour  or  two  ?  " 

"  Just  so,  leave  him  alone  for  a  little  while,*'  said  a  gruff 
voice  from  the  end  of  the  bed,  at  the  same  time  that  the 
huge  beard  and  red  moustache  of  Pioche  appeared  peeping 
above  the  curtain. 

"  Is  he  not  stupid,  that  great  animal  of  a  cuirassier  ?  " 
said  mademoiselle,  starting  at  the  voice  so  unexpectedly 
heard.  "  I  say,  mon  caporal,  right  face — march.  Do  you 
hear,  sir?  You've  got  ihefeuille  de  route.  What  do  you 
stay  for?" 

"  Ah,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  poor  fellow,  as  he 
smoothed  down  his  hair  on  his  forehead,  and  looked  the 
very  impersonation  of  sheepish  admiration. 

"  Well  ?  "  replied  she,  as  if  not  understanding  his  appeal 
to  her  feelings — "well?" 

A  look  of  total  embarrassment,  an  expression  of  com- 
plete bewilderment,  was  his  only  reply ;  while  his  eyea 
wandered  round  the  room  till  they  met  mine,  and  then,  as 
if  suddenly  conscious  that  a  third  party  was  present,  he 
blushed  deeply,  and  said, — 

"  Too  true,  mon  lieutenant,  she  does  with  me  what  she 
will." 

"  Don't  believe  him,  monsieur,"  interposed  she,  quickly. 
"  I  told  him  to  get  knocked  on  the  head  a  dozen  times, 
and  lie's  never  done  so." 

"  I  would  though,  and  right  soon  too,  if  you  were  only 
in  earnest,"  said  he,  with  a  vehemence  that  bespoke  the 
truth  of  the  assertion. 


456  TOM   BUKKK    OP    "  OUKS.** 

"  There,  there,"  said  she,  with  a  smile,  as  she  held  out 
her  hand  to  him,  "  we  are  friends." 

The  poor  fellow  pressed  it  to  his  lips  with  the  respectful 
devotion  of  a  Bayard ;  and  with  a  muttered  "  This  even* 
ing,"  left  the  room. 

"  It  is  no  small  triumph,  mademoiselle,"  said  I,  "  that 
you  have  inspired  such  a  passion  in  the  hardy  breast  of 
the  cuirassier." 

A  saucy  shake  of  the  head,  as  though  she  did  not  like 
the  compliment,  was  the  only  reply.  She  bent  her  head 
down  over  her  work,  and  seemed  absorbed  in  its  details ; 
while  I,  reverting  to  my  own  cares,  became  silent  also. 

"  And  so,  monsieur,"  said  she,  after  a  long  pause — 
"  and  so  yon  deem  this  conquest  of  mine  a  very  wonderful 
thing?" 

"  You  mistake  me,"  said  I,  eagerly — "  you  mistake  me 
much.  My  surprise  was  rather  that  one  like  Pioche, 
good-hearted,  simple  fellow  as  he  is,  should  possess  the 
refinement  of  feeling " 

"  A  clever  flank  movement  of  yours,  lieutenant,"  inter- 
posed she,  with  a  pleasant  laugh ;  "  and  I'll  not  attack 
you  again.  And,  after  all,  I  am  a  little  proud  of  my 
conquest." 

"  The  confession  is  a  flattering  one,  from  one  who 
doubtless  has  had  a  great  many  to  boast  of." 

"  A  great  many,  indeed ! "  replied  she,  naively.  "  So 
many,  that  I  can't  reckon  them — not  to  boast  of,  how- 
ever, as  you  term  it.  Parbleu  !  some  of  them  had  little  of 

that But  here  comes  the  doctor,  and  I  must  not  let 

him  see  us  talking.     Mafoi,  they  little  think,  when  their 
backs  are  turned,  how  seldom  we  mind  their  directions." 

The  surgeon's  visit  was  a  matter  of  a  few  seconds ;  he 
contented  himself  with  feeling  my  pulse  and  reiterating 
his  advice  as  to  quiet. 

"  You  have  got  the  best  nurse  in  the  army,  monsieur,'1 
said  he,  as  he  took  his  leave ;  "I  have  only  one  caution  to 
give  you — take  care  if  an  affection  of  the  heart  be  not  a 
worse  affair  than  a  thrust  of  a  small  sword.  I  have  known 
such  a  termination  of  an  illness  before  now." 

Mademoiselle  made  no  reply  save  an  arch  look  of  half 
anger,  and  left  the  room;  and  I,  wearied  and  exhausted, 
sank  into  a  heavy  slumber. 


457 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

THB    "  VIVANDIEBK   OF  THK  FOURTH." 

FOR  three  entire  weeks  my  wound  confined  me  to  the 
limi  .s  of  my  chamber ;  and  yet,  were  it  not  for  my  im- 
patience to  be  up  and  stirring,  my  life  was  not  devoid  of 
happiness. 

Every  movement  of  the  army,  in  its  most  minute  detail, 
was  daily  reported  to  me  by  Mademoiselle  Minette.  The 
bulletins  of  the  Emperor,  the  promotions,  the  on  dits  of 
the  bivouac  and  the  march,  brought  by  the  various 
battalions  as  they  moved  on  towards  the  east,  were  all 
related  by  her,  with  such  knowledge  of  military  phrase 
and  soldiers'  style  as  to  amuse  me,  equally  by  her  manner 
as  by  what  she  told. 

The  cuirassiers  marched  soon  after  I  received  my  wound, 
and,  though  attached  to  the  corps,  she  remained  behind 
at  Elchingen,  having  pledged  herself,  as  she  said,  to  the 
general,  to  restore  me  safe  and  sound  before  she  left 
me.  The  little  window  beside  my  bed  offered  a  widely- 
extended  view  over  the  great  plain  beneath,  and  there  I 
have  sat  the  entire  day,  watching  the  columns  of  cavalry 
and  infantry  as  they  poured  along,  seemingly  without 
ceasing,  towards  the  Lower  Danube.  Sometimes  the  faint 
sounds  of  the  soldiers'  songs  would  reach  me — the  rude 
chorus  of  a  regiment  timing  their  step  to  some  warrior's 
chant — and  set  my  heart  a  beating  to  be  with  them  once 
more.  Sometimes  my  eye  would  rest  upon  the  slow  train 
of  waggons,  surmounted  with  a  white  flag,  that  wound 
their  way  heavily  in  the  rear,  and  my  spirit  sank  as  I 
thought  over  the  poor  wounded  fellows  that  were  thus 
borne  onward  with  the  tide  of  war,  as  the  crushed  serpent 
trails  his  wounded  folds  behind  him. 

Mademoiselle  seldom  left  me.  Seated  at  her  work, 
often  for  hours  without  speaking,  she  would  follow  the 
train  of  her  own  thoughts,  and  when  by  chance  she  gave 


458  TOM   BURKE    OP    "  OURS.*' 

a  passing  glance  through  the  window  at  the  scene  beneath, 
some  single  word  would  escape  her,  as  to  the  regiments 
or  their  officers,  few  of  which  were  unknown  to  her,  at 
least  by  reputation. 

I  could  not  but  mark  that,  within  the  last  twelve  or 
fourteen  days,  she  seemed  more  sad  and  depressed  than 
before — the  lively  gaiety  of  her  character  had  given  place 
to  a  meek  and  suffering  melancholy,  which  I  could  not 
help  attributing  to  the  circumstances  in  which  she  was 
placed,  away  from  all  her  ordinary  pursuits,  and  the  com- 
panions  of  her  daily  life.  I  hinted  as  much  one  day,  and 
was  about  to  insist  on  her  leaving  me,  when  she  suddenly 
interrupted  me,  saying, — 

"  It  is  all  true.  I  am  sad,  and  know  not  why — for  I 
never  felt  happier ;  yet,  if  you  wished  me  to  be  gay,  as  I 
used  to  be,  I  could  not  for  the  world.  It  is  not  because 
I  am  far  from  those  I  have  learned  to  look  on  as  my 
brothers.  Not  so — my  changeful  fortune  has  often  placed 
me  thus.  Perhaps  it's  your  fault,  mon  lieutenant,"  said 
she,  suddenly,  turning  her  eyes  full  upon  me. 

*'  Mine,  Minette — mine !  "  said  I,  in  amazement. 

She  blashed  deeply,  and  held  down  her  head,  while  her 
bosom  heaved  several  times  convulsively  ;  and  then,  while 
a  deathly  paleness  spread  over  her  cheek,  she  said,  in  a 
low,  broken  voice, — 

"  Perhaps  it  is  because  I  am  an  orphan,  and  never 
knew  what  it  was  to  have  those  whose  dispositions  I 
should  imitate,  and  whose  tastes  I  should  study ;  but, 
somehow,  I  feel  even  as  though  I  could  not  help  becoming 
like  those  I  am  near  to,  following  them — ay,  and  outstrip- 
ping them — in  all  their  likings  and  dislikings." 

"And  so,  as  you  seem  sad  and  sorrowful,  it  is  more  than 
probable  that  you  took  the  colour  of  my  thoughts.  I 
should  feel  sorry,  Minette,  to  think  it  were  thus — I  should 
ill  repay  all  your  kindness  to  me — I  must  try  and  wear  a 
happier  countenance." 

"  Do  so — and  mine  will  soon  reflect  it,"  said  she, 
laughing ;  "  but,  perhaps,  you  have  cause  for  sorrow," 
•dded  she,  as  she  stole  a  glance  at  me  beneath  her 
eyelashes. 

"  You  know,  Minette,  that  I  am  an  orphan  like  your- 
self," said  I,  half  evading  the  question. 


THE    "VIVANDIERE    OP   THE    FOURTH."  459 

"  Ah !  "  cried  she,  passionately,  "  if  I  had  been  a  man, 
I  should  like  to  be  such  a  one  as  Murat  there.  See  how 
his  black  eyes  sparkle,  and  his  proud  lip  curls,  when  the 
roll  of  artillery,  or  the  clattering  of  a  platoon  is  heard — 
how  his  whole  soul  is  in  the  fight !  I  remember  once — it 
was  at  the  Iser — his  brigade  was  stationed  beneath  the 
hill,  and  had  no  orders  to  move  forward  for  several  hours — 
he  used  to  get  off  his  horse,  and  walk  about,  and  en- 
deavour, by  pushing  the  smoke  away  thus  with  his  hand, 
and  almost  kneeling  to  the  ground,  to  catch  a  view  of  the 
battle,  and  then  he  would  spring  into  the  saddle,  and, 
for  sheer  passion,  dash  the  spurs  into  his  horse's  flanks, 
till  he  reared  and  plunged  again.  I  watched  him  thus 
for  hours.  I  loved  to  look  on  him,  chafing  and  fretting, 
like  his  own  mettled  charger,  he  was  so  handsome  ! 

"  '  A  drink,  Minette !  Something  to  cool  my  lips,  for 
Heaven's  sake,'  said  he,  at  last,  as  he  saw  me  standing 
near  him.  I  filled  the  little  cup  you  see  here  with  wine, 
and  handed  it  to  him.  Scarcely  had  he  raised  it  to  his 
lips,  when  an  aide-de-camp  galloped  up,  and  whispered 
some  words  in  haste. 

'* '  Ha,  ha  ! '  cried  he,  with  a  shout  of  joy,  '  they  want 
us,  then — the  squadrons  will  advance  by  sections — and 
charge! — charge!' — and  with  that  he  flung  the  goblet 
from  him  to  the  ground,  and  when  I  took  it  up,  I  found 
that  with  the  grasp  of  his  strong  fingers  he  had  crushed 
it  nearly  together.  See  here.  I  never  would  let  it  be 
changed.  It  is  just  as  at  the  time  he  clasped  it,  and  I 
kept  it  as  a  souvenir  of  the  prince."  She  took  from  a 
little  shelf  the  cup,  as  she  spoke,  and  held  it  up  before  me, 
with  the  devoted  admiration  with  which  some  worshipper 
would  regard  a  holy  relic.  "  And  that,"  said  Minette,  as 
nhe  pressed  to  her  lips  a  faded  cockade,  whose  time-worn 
tints  still  showed  the  tricolored  emblems  of  the  Republic 
— "  that  do  I  value  above  the  cross  of  the  Legion  itself." 

"  Whose  was  it,  Minette  ?  Some  brave  soldier's,  I'm 
sure." 

"  And  you  may  be  sure.  That  was  the  cockade  of  Le 
Premier  Grenadier  de  la  France — La  Tour  d'Auvergne — 
the  cousin  of  your  own  general.'  Seeing  that  I  had  not 
heard  before  of  him,  she  paused  for  a  few  seconds  in 
amazement,  and  then  muttered—"  A  brave  school  to  train 


460  TOM   BURKE    OF    "  OUB8." 

the  youth  of  France  it  must  be,  where  the  name  of  La 
Tour  d'Auvergne  was  never  mentioned." 

Having  thus  vented  her  indignation,  she  proceeded  to 
tell  me  of  her  hero,  who,  though  descended  from  one  of 
the  most  distinguished  families  of  France,  yet  persisted  in 
carrying  his  musket  in  the  ranks  of  the  republican  army — 
never  attaining  to  a  higher  grade,  nor  known  by  any  other 
title  than  the  "  Premier  Grenadier  de  la  France."  Fore- 
most in  every  post  of  danger — the  volunteer  at  every 
emergency  of  more  than  ordinary  peril — he  refused  every 
proffer  of  advancement,  and  lived  among  his  comrades  the 
simple  life  of  a  soldier. 

"He  fell  at  Neuburg,"  said  Mademoiselle,  "scarce  a 
day's  march  from  here ;  they  buried  him  on  the  field,  and 
placed  him  dead,  as  he  had  been  ever  while  living,  with 
his  face  towards  the  enemy.  And  you  never  heard  of  him  ? 
— -juste  del  I  it  is  almost  incredible.  You  never  brigaded 
with  the  Forty-fifth  of  the  line — that's  certain." 

"And  why  so?" 

"  Because  they  call  his  name  at  every  parade  muster  as 
though  he  were  still  alive  and  well.  The  first  man  called 
is  La  Tour  d'Auvergne,  and  the  first  soldier  answers, 
'  Mort  sur  le  champ  de  bataille.1  That's  a  prouder  monu- 
ment than  your  statues  and  tombstones.  Is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Indeed  it  is,"  said  I,  to  whom  the  anecdote  was  then 
new,  though  I  afterwards  lived  to  hear  it  corroborated  in 
every  respect.  With  many  such  traits  of  the  service  did 
mademoiselle  beguile  the  time — now  telling  of  the  pleasant 
life  of  the  cantonment — now  of  the  wild  scenes  of  the 
battle-field.  Young  as  she  was,  she  had  seen  much  of 
both,  and  learned  around  the  bivouac  fires  the  old  tradi- 
tions of  the  revolutionary  armies,  and  the  brave  deeds  of 
the  first  veterans  of  France.  In  such  narratives,  too,  her 
own  enthusiastic  nature  burst  forth  in  all  its  vehemence — 
her  eyes  would  sparkle,  and  her  words  come  rapidly,  as 
she  described  some  fierce  attack  or  headlong  charge — and 
it  was  impossible  to  listen  without  catching  up  a  portion 
of  her  ardour,  so  wrapt  up  did  she  herself  become  in  the 
excitement  of  her  story.  Thus,  one  evening,  while 
describing  the  passage  of  the  Adige,  after  detailing  most 
circumstantially  the  position  and  strength  of  the  attacking 
columns,  and  describing  how  each  successive  advance  wai 


THE    "VIVANDIERE    OF    THE    FOUBTH."  461 

repulsed  by  the  murderous  fire  of  the  artillery,  she  pro- 
ceeded to  relate  the  plan  of  a  flank  movement,  effected  by 
some  light  infantry  regiment,  thrown  across  the  river 
a  considerable  distance  up  the  stream.  "  We  came  along," 
said  she,  "  under  the  shade  of  some  willows,  and  at  last 
reached  the  ford — the  leading  companies  halted,  two 
officers  sounded  the  river,  and  found  that  it  was  passable. 
I  was  close  by  at  the  time — it  was  the  Colonel  Lajolais 
who  commanded  the  brigade,  and  he  asked  me  for  a 

*  goutte?    '  It  may  be  the  last  you'll  ever  give  me,  Minette,' 
said  he  ;  *  I  don't  expect  to  see  you  again.' 

"  '  Are  you  going  to  remain  at  this  side,  colonel  ?  * 
said  I. 

"  '  No,  parbleu  /'  said  he,  '  not  when  the  Twenty-second 
cross  to  the  other.' 

"  'Neither  am  I,  then,'  said  I ;  'my  place  is  with  the 
head  of  the  battalion.'  Well,  well,  they  all  pressed  me  to 
stay  back — they  said  a  thousand  kind  things  too — but 
that  only  decided  me  the  more  to  go  on — and  as  the  signal- 
rocket  was  fired,  the  word  was  given,  and  on  we  went. 
For  the  first  eight  or  ten  paces  it  was  mere  wading — but 
suddenly  a  grenadier  in  the  front  called  out,  '  Gare !  lift 
your  muskets,  it's  deep  here ; '  and  so  it  was — with  one 
plunge  down  I  went,  but  they  seized  me  by  the  arms  and 
carried  me  along,  and  some  way  or  other  we  reached  the 
bank.  Morbleu  I  I  felt  half  drowned — but  there  was  little 
time  to  think  over  these  things,  for  scarcely  had  the 
column  formed,  when  the  cry  of  '  Cavalry  !'  was  given, 
and  down  came  the  lancers  with  a  swoop ;  but  we  were  all 
ready.  The  flank  companies  fell  back,  and  formed  in 
square,  and  a  tremendous  volley  sent  them  off  faster  than 
they  came.  '  Now,  then,  push  forward  double  quick,'  said 
the  old  colonel — '  the  pas  de  charge?  Alas !  the  poor  little 
drummer  was  lying  dead  at  his  feet.  The  thought  sud- 
denly seized  me,  I  sprang  forward,  unstrung  his  drum, 
threw  the  strap  over  my  shoulder,  and  beat  the  '  pas  de 
charge] — a  cheer  ran  along  the  whole  battalion,  and  on  we 
went.  Mort  de  del  I  I  was  never  so  near  the  fire  before. 
There  was  the  enemy,  scarce  two  hundred  yards  off — two 
great  columns,  with  artillery  between,  waiting  for  us. 

*  Keep  her  back — keep  back,   Minette — brave  Jille.'     I 
heard  no  more — a  shot  came  whizzing  past,  and  struck 


462  TOM    BUBKE    OF    "  OUKS." 

me  here."  She  pulled  down  her  dress  as  she  spoke,  and 
disclosed  the  scar  of  a  bullet's  track  on  her  white  shoulder ; 
then,  as  if  suddenly  recollecting,  she  blushed  deeply,  drew 
her  kerchief  closely  around  her,  and  muttered  in  a  low 
voice,  "  Mafoi,  how  these  things  make  one  forget  to  be  a 
woman."  And  with  that  she  hung  down  her  head,  and 
despite  all  I  could  say  would  not  utter  another  word. 

Such  was  the  vivandiere  of  the  Fourth  ;  blending  in  her 
character  the  woman's  weakness  and  the  soldier's  ardour — 
the  delicacy  of  feeling,  which  not  even  the  life  of  campa 
and  bivouacs  could  eradicate,  with  the  wild  enthusiasm  for 
glory — the  passion  of  her  nation.^  It  needed  not  her  dark 
eyes,  shaded  with  their  long  black  fringe — her  oval  face, 
whose  freckles  but  displayed  the  transparent  skin  beneath 
— her  graceful  figure,  and  her  elastic  step,  to  make  her  an 
object  of  attraction  in  the  regiment ;  nor  could  I  be  sur- 
prised to  learn,  as  I  did,  how  many  a  high  offer  of  marriage 
had  been  made  to  her  by  those  soldiers  of  fortune  whose 
gallantry  and  daring  had  won  them  honours  in  the  service. 

To  value  at  their  real  price  such  attractions,  one  should 
meet  them  far  away,  and  remote  from  the  ordinary  habits 
of  the  world,  in  the  wild,  reckless  career  of  the  camp — on 
the  long  march — beside  the  weary  watch-fire — ay,  on  the 
very  field  of  battle — amid  the  din,  the  clamour,  and  the 
smoke — the  cheers,  the  cries  of  carnage :  then,  indeed, 
such  an  apparition  had  sometning  magical  in  it.  To  see 
that  tender  girl  tripping  along  fearlessly  from  rank  to 
rank,  as  though  she  had  a  charmed  life — now  saluting 
with  her  hand  some  brave  soldier  as  he  rode  by  to  the 
charge — now  stooping  beside  the  wounded,  and  holding  to 
his  bloodless  lips  the  longed-for  cup :  to  watch  her  as  she 
rode  gracefully  at  the  head  of  the  regiment,  or  lay  beside 
the  fire  of  the  bivouac,  relating  with  a  woman's  grace 
some  story  of  the  campaign — while  the  grey-bearded 
veteran  and  the  raw  youth  hung  on  each  word,  and  won- 
dered how  the  scenes  in  which  they  mingled  and  acted 
could  bear  such  interest  when  told  by  rosy  lips.  Who 
would  wonder  if  she  had  many  lovers  ?  who  would  not 
rather  be  surprised  at  those  who  remained  coldly  indifferent 
to  such  charms  as  hers  ? 

Let  my  confession,  then,  excite  neither  astonishment  nor 
•uspicion,  when  I  acknowledge  that,  in  such  companion- 


THE    "  VIVANDIERE    OF   THE    FOURTH."  468 

ship,  the  days  slipped  rapidly  over.  I  never  wearied  of 
hearing  her  tell  of  the  scenes  she  had  witnessed,  nor  did 
she  of  recounting  them ;  and,  although  a  sense  of  reproach 
used  now  and  then  to  cross  me  for  the  life  of  inactivity 
and  indolence  I  was  leading,  Mademoiselle  Minette  pro- 
mised me  many  a  brave  opportunity  of  distinction  to 
come,  and  campaigns  of  as  great  glory  as  even  those  of 
Italy  and  Egypt. 


A    000052623     6 


